


Two, Three, Cha-Cha-Cha

by nickel710



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Amelie and Gabe are best friends, Background Relationships, Ballerina Amelie, Dance Instructor Gabriel, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Jack is famous kind of, M/M, Mutual Pining, PTSD, Panic Attacks, Reality TV, Slow Burn, dance, dancing with the stars au, war hero Jack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-08-31
Packaged: 2018-12-11 23:22:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 29,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11724717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nickel710/pseuds/nickel710
Summary: Gabriel Reyes has been a dancer all his life, and has been an instructor for Dance Stars three times now. This is the first season he's competing directly against his best friend, Amélie. As much fun as that seems by itself, his attention is quickly distracted from his friendly competition with Amélie to her handsome dance partner, military hero Jack Morrison.This is pretty much just a fluffy Dancing with the Stars AU.





	1. Overture

**Author's Note:**

> Alright so I am constantly seeking good, fluffy, R76 content. But we all know that R76 is not the fluffiest tag (edge dads whyyyy). So I decided to write my own. I don't really know anything about dancing so if that's terribly obvious from this, sorry. Feel free to leave comments with suggestions about ways to make Gabe sound more like he's been a dancer all his life!
> 
> Each chapter will be one week of the competition, with about 7-8 weeks of competition, so you can expect 8-10 chapters (including the intro and probably some kind of epilogue). I think I'll keep to a once a week update schedule.
> 
> Also I'm making "Dance Stars" its own thing, loosely based on DwtS. So please don't expect it to be exactly like DwtS.

# Overture

“You’re going down this time, Reyes,” Amélie said, reaching across the table and snatching a piece of crunchy roll off his plate with her chopsticks.

“Didn’t you get one of those military guys?” Gabriel snorted, sucking on some pickled ginger, unconcerned by his best friend’s sushi theft. “There’s no way you shape him up better than my chef. Have you watched her show? She was an athlete in college.”

“Military guys could be athletes,” Amélie replied, shrugging. “Besides, have you seen this guy? He’s Captain fucking America in the flesh.”

She popped a piece of eel into her mouth, then fished out her phone and poked at it for a minute before turning it around to hold up a photo for Gabriel to see. A cocky-looking blonde grinned at him, all blue eyes and strong chin. Gabriel rolled his eyes and shoved her phone away from his face.

“Just because he’s cute doesn’t mean you can train him to dance.”

“You think he’s cute?” she said, frowning and looking at the picture.

“What? Don’t you? Wasn’t that your point in the first place, calling him Captain America and showing me his picture?”

Amé rolled her eyes. “Well, of course he’s _handsome_ Gabriel,” she said, “and viewers are going to eat that up. We’re going to get all the votes this season. But I meant, _you_ think he’s cute? Isn’t he a bit… boring for your tastes?”

Gabriel drained his water glass, smiled wickedly. “Less boring if he were bent over the bed screaming my name.”

A deadly smile spread on Amélie’s lips. “You have a point,” she conceded. “Too bad he’s bound to be straight as an arrow. Military types. So square.”

* * *

Gabriel had been a dancing instructor for _Star Dance_ for three seasons now, though not consecutively. The producers didn’t like having the same instructors every season, though some fan favorites came back a few times to keep viewers hooked. He had gotten pretty far two seasons ago with his partner, a TV actress who had taken dance classes as a kid and had a good sense of rhythm. She had been fearless, trying new moves, lifts, and flips. And then she had been ruthless when Gabriel had turned down her multiple advances, and their success streak tanked.

Amé, on the other hand, had competed last season and gotten third place with a hockey player.

This was their first season competing directly against each other, so they carpooled from their apartment block for the first day, bickering about who was going to make it farther in the competition. Gabriel had to admit, winning the $100,000 prize money would do him all kinds of good, but beating Amé was possibly more motivating.

They arrived a good ten minutes early and greeted familiar faces, other dance instructors brought back for the new season. Lena, whose footwork put the other dancers to shame every time. Satya, who seemed aloof but was actually just kind of awkward and had a hard time reading people, and could move like silk over glass. Akande, whose grace belied his huge frame. Sombra, who specialized in Latin dances (he did, too, and the two of them had a lot of fun tearing things up together during breaks and special performances).

Finally the producer appeared and called them to order. The chatter and movement died down.

“Welcome, welcome,” the producer, a hulk of a man called Winston called. Winston was one of the few Hollywood folks Gabriel had come across that he didn’t instantly hate. “Thanks for coming back, returners, and for joining us, new instructors. You’ll be meeting your partners in about an hour and we’ll be filming the initial meetings and interviews all day today. My assistant is distributing the schedule for this week.”

Gabriel turned to see Athena handing Amé a page, then Sombra, then him, and on down the line. He looked over the schedule. No surprises; it looked about the same as the schedules from the previous seasons he’d participated in.

“Let’s go ahead and start instructor interviews. If we can have new instructors first, we’ll need more time with you all, that’s good, thanks.” Winston waved to everyone else and disappeared with the new instructors down the hallway to the interview rooms.

Amélie twirled into Gabriel’s arms and he reacted quickly, dipping her back in a familiar gesture. “Waltz is the first week’s dance,” she said, her long ponytail sweeping the floor as she arched her back and arms dramatically in the dip. “You imbeciles do not stand a chance.”

Gabriel hauled her back to her feet. “If you can get your ox of a soldier to not step on your toes,” he said, spinning her to Sombra, who took up the lead position with a cackle.

* * *

“...and that’s how I got into cooking,” Fareeha Amari finished with a laugh and winning smile. Gabriel smiled for the camera, but also because he found the woman charming and pleasant. She seemed far more down to earth than his last partner, the actress.

“Gabriel,” the interviewer said, “how do you think this season will go for you and Fareeha?”

Gabriel cleared his throat, glanced at Fareeha and nodded. “So far, Fareeha and I are getting along great,” he said cheerfully, knowing the producers would just make him say it again if he didn’t lay on the cheese a bit. “I’ve watched her show a lot, so I know she’s a hard worker and a perfectionist, so I’m sure we’ll do well together,” he finished with a chuckle.

“Great,” the interviewer said, gesturing over her shoulder to the camera crew to cut the video. “We’re done for now, thanks Fareeha, Gabriel. See you tomorrow.”

“What now?” Fareeha asked as she followed Gabriel out into the common room where lunch was set up.

“Now we wait to be cleared for our first practice. Everyone is supposed to have the same amount of time, so we have to wait for the rest of the interviews to finish and Winston to do his big intro for the cameras.” He gestured to the lunch table. “Hungry?”

Gabriel finished filling his plate and turned when he heard Amé’s voice nearby, running directly into a wall of blue and blond. His pile of veggies exploded as he reared back in surprise.

“Whoa there,” a gruff voice with a subtle country twang to it said, a hand reaching out to steady Gabriel by the elbow. “Sorry!”

Covered in lettuce, carrots, and Italian dressing, Gabriel could do little more than gape at the man in front of him. He recognized him from the photo on Amélie’s phone, the military guy who was here to compete. But he hadn’t gathered from the photo just how muscular the man would be.

“You alright?” the man asked as Gabriel struggled to find words.

“He’s fine,” came Amélie’s amused voice, and Muscles turned to reveal Amélie peeking her head around his shoulders to smirk at Gabriel. “Jack, this is my best friend, Gabriel Reyes. Gabe, Jack Morrison.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” Jack said politely, offering his hand.

“Likewise,” Gabriel muttered, suddenly acutely aware of the mess his lunch had made all over the both of them. “Sorry my salad went nuclear on you.”

Jack laughed. “Sorry I made your lunch ‘go nuclear.’”

A set assistant was already there to mop up the salad, so Gabriel thanked the kid and turned to help himself to a new plate, then introduced Fareeha to Jack and Amélie. The four of them settled at a table to eat.

“My mother was military, too,” Fareeha told Jack. “Sniper in Egypt’s special forces.”

“Wow, a sniper,” Jack said, spearing a huge bite of lettuce. “Bet she has a lot of stories from her service, huh?”

Fareeha shrugged. “She was killed in action when I was thirteen,” she said. Jack’s face clouded.

“Sorry to hear it,” he said quietly. Gabriel made a mental note to look up why a military guy had made the cut to be on the show as one of their celebrity guests. Usually people had some kind of entertainment background—singers, actors, TV stars, athletes, sometimes politicians. But military?

“What about you, Gabriel?” Jack said.

Gabriel looked up, startled out of his thoughts, and straight into that dazzling blue gaze. Oh shit, he had joked with Amé about Jack being cute the other day, but up close and personal, the man was fucking gorgeous. “Uh,” he said eloquently.

“Gabriel has two older brothers and an older sister,” Amé said smoothly, rolling her eyes at Gabriel. “And apparently his brain isn’t getting enough oxygen today.”

Fareeha snorted a laugh and Gabriel shot her a dirty look. “Hey,” he said, mock offended. “I thought we were a team.” His dance partner grinned, shrugging.

“Baby of the family, huh?” Jack said, kindly taking up the conversation point instead of the teasing. “Me, too, but I only have one brother.”

Amélie tossed her long hair over her shoulder. “Babies,” she scoffed. “Fareeha and I understand the superiority of being an only child.”

“Careful, Amé,” Gabriel said. “You might sound like a bitch if you keep talking.”

She scoffed. “Might?”

Fareeha and Jack laughed at their bickering, not put off at all. Gabriel grinned, too. This was shaping up to be a good season.


	2. Waltz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Did I say update once a week? Ha. I can never sit on updates... I get too excited to share! OH WELL enjoy!
> 
> Happy Summer Games! I am LIVING for this dad76 skin, it's TOO FUNNY.

# Waltz

“...and raise on your toes here, good, nice,” Gabriel nodded approvingly as Fareeha executed the step properly. “How’s that feel?”

“Good! I think I’ve got it.”

He nodded again, then checked the clock. “We only have another five minutes before the interviews, so let’s go back through everything we covered today. We’ll finish the choreography tomorrow.”

Fareeha was a fast learner, naturally graceful and able to transfer her skills from her days as a college volleyball player to dancing with ease. They had three more days until the first competition and Gabriel was quite happy with their progress. Tomorrow he would teach her the rest of the dance, and they’d have two full days to perfect the routine.

When their interviews were over, Fareeha punched Gabe’s shoulder and grinned. “I want to cook for you tonight,” she said. “The condos they have all us out-of-town competitors set up in have pretty good little kitchens. What do you say?”

“Not gonna turn down a meal made by _the_ Fareeha Amari,” Gabriel replied.

“Good. You like seafood?” Gabe nodded. “Pefect. I’ll invite Amélie and Jack, too, they were a lot of fun. See you at 7:00.”

* * *

Amé drove them from their apartment building to the condominiums owned by the production studio where guest stars stayed. Winston didn’t mind the competitors and professional dancers interacting outside of the competition. Everyone signed agreements not to cheat, and they worked hard enough during the days that nobody was eager to secretly meet up and keep practicing after hours.

Jack was already at Fareeha’s condo when they arrived, having only had to come downstairs from his own. The whole place smelled heavenly, like perfectly cooked fish and lemon and garlic. Fareeha had glasses of white wine poured for everyone, and Jack was perched on one of her barstools with his wine in hand, chatting amiably with the chef while Amé and Gabriel settled in.

“We were just commenting about how much work dancing is,” Jack told Gabriel and Amélie. “We thought we were in good shape, but. Oof, my calves.”

Gabriel chuckled. “Different muscle groups getting work,” he said, and Fareeha and Jack nodded their agreement.

“How did you two become professional dancers?”

“Amé and I were in ballet classes together as kids,” Gabriel answered. “Amé is still a ballerina, but I got bigger and bulkier than is ideal for guys in ballet, so I’d never have made it in the professional scene. I switched to ballroom to become an instructor.”

“You’ve known each other since you were kids?” Fareeha asked as she tossed some greens with the juice from some roasted lemons.

“Unfortunately,” Amélie sighed, earning chuckles from their dance partners.

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “I know she seems prickly and all, but once you get to know her, she’s really just a fucking cactus.”

“Cacti have sweet fruit,” Jack said generously while Fareeha cackled.

“Eh, gringo over here thinks he’s clever,” Gabriel ragged. “Telling an LA native about _tuna_.”

“Tuna?” Jack repeated, confused.

“Prickly pears,” supplied Fareeha, testing the dressed greens and adding a bit of salt. “Cactus fruit.”

“She’s a chef,” Gabriel said, “so I get how she knows about tuna. But how does a Middle America farmboy know anything about cactus fruit?”

Jack shrugged. “I’ve been all over and eaten all kinds of stuff. I was stationed in south Texas for a while, right by the border. My teammates would bring cactus fruit back for a snack sometimes.”

“But you never caught on to its Spanish name?”

Jack rolled his eyes. “I’m better at the whole _point and shoot_ skillset. Languages were never really my thing.”

Fareeha served the food then, so the conversation dropped off in favor of appreciative exclamations and savoring. Once she was sure everyone was enjoying their dinner, their chef asked Jack how he was doing learning his waltz.

“Jack dances like a straight boy,” Amélie said.

“Hey!”

She shrugged, delicately flaking off another piece of fish with her fork. “It’s okay, Jack, you’re improving a lot already. Lucky for you, the waltz doesn’t require a lot of hip action.”

“What are you saying about my hips?” he demanded, pointing his fork at her accusingly.

Amélie snapped her fingers at Gabriel, standing up and flicking her wrist in his direction to beckon him to her. He knew what she was doing and spun her around, then led her in a quick salsa improv. He would have exaggerated his hip movements for Jack’s benefit, but honestly, he never shirked on the hip swaying.

Amélie twirled her way back to her chair as Fareeha and Jack clapped and whistled, and ate her bite of fish. Swallowing, she smiled at Jack. “Do you see?”

“I do,” he said, his eyes on Gabriel. “So Gabriel doesn’t dance like a straight boy, huh?”

Amélie and Gabe both snorted laughter. “Honey, I haven’t done anything like a straight boy since the day I was born,” Gabriel drawled. “To my father’s great shame.”

Jack’s eyes didn’t leave Gabriel, but his smile changed, looked a bit more… predatory. “Oh? Maybe I can learn a thing or two from you, then.”

Gabriel choked on his wine as Fareeha and Amélie laughed.

* * *

The day of the waltz competition came quickly. Fareeha and Gabriel were slated to go first, and they made sure to dazzle. First slot wasn’t ideal, since judges weren’t buttered up with cute acts, nor had they had some kind of disaster happen on stage yet to mentally compare them to. But Fareeha was a fierce competitor and took their position as a challenge.

She and Gabriel gave it everything they had and got good responses. The judges had some critiques for Fareeha’s upper body form, and Gabriel made a mental note to focus on that next week so that they’d be impressed by her improvement. The scores were fine; they’d definitely make next week, especially if Akande’s complaints about his celebrity partner reflected how bad she actually was.

The nice thing about going first was that they got to watch the next few dances. Sombra and her baseball player did fine. One of the more interesting celebrity guests, a professional gamer from South Korea named Hana Song, surprised everyone with a beautiful and sentimental waltz. When the host asked her about her newfound dancing talent, she gave him a fierce grin and said, “I play to win.”

“Shit,” Fareeha said, impressed with the young Korean woman. “I thought she’d be easy to beat.”

Gabriel nodded his agreement, then returned his attention to the stage as Amélie and Jack came out to great applause.

The music started and he was immediately captivated. Jack wore a white dancing suit that showed off his slender waist and broad shoulders in ways that made Gabriel want to personally thank the tailor responsible for costuming. And while he wasn’t perfect, he executed the dance admirably. The best part was when the judges complimented how graceful his hip movements were, and he laughed and said, “I learned from the best.”

Fareeha nudged Gabriel while Amélie rolled her eyes at her dance partner. The four of them knew he didn’t mean Amélie, but the host wasn’t in on the joke, so he made some kind of comment about how nice it was for the partners to be getting along so well, then Amélie and Jack were led offstage for their post-dance interview.

In the end, Akande and his actress were sent home, their waltz a true disaster, and Gabriel, Amélie, Sombra, and their partners headed to a bar for celebratory drinks. Of course it was a bar with a dance floor and despite being quite tired, Gabriel let Amélie pull him out for a few songs. They hadn’t gone out together like this in a while, and it was refreshing to do something free form and relaxed instead of the routine, choreographed basics from being an instructor.

When they returned to the bar, his good mood soured a bit at the sight of a pretty woman, all dark skin and vibrant curves, sipping on a drink and hanging off of Jack’s every word. He couldn’t help the pang of disappointment he felt as he watched her hand trail down Jack’s arm, the way Jack leaned in to listen to her tell him something quietly.

“Dances like a straight boy,” Amélie murmured, kissing Gabriel’s cheek and calling the bartender over to buy their next round.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next few chapters get a little longer, fyi.
> 
> Hey! If you're enjoying this so far, please consider leaving kudos or a comment! It means a lot to me because I don't have a tumblr where I promote my own content, so your kudos can really help boost visibility for the story. I really appreciate every single one of you who takes the time to leave kudos and comments.
> 
> Also I *really* love chatting in comments, so don't be shy! I get so motivated when you tell me what you liked or things you are hoping to see in future chapters. Thanks for reading!


	3. Cha Cha Cha

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> non-explicit masturbation in this chapter at the end in case you hate that or something

# Cha Cha Cha

“You should have heard him in the interview today,” Amélie said from the passenger seat as Gabriel drove them home. He didn’t have a car, but they switched off driving hers regularly. “Carson wanted him to talk about his military service a bit, you know, ham it up for the audience, and Jack just did the stoic man-tears thing on cue, got out of saying anything specific. It was amazing.”

“You know, he may _actually_ be sincere about the stoic man-tears,” Gabriel pointed out.

“What, you think he’s actually that torn up about his shit?”

“Amé, do you even know why he’s famous?”

She raised one sleek eyebrow at him. “Do you?”

“Yeah,” Gabriel said, looking over his shoulder and switching lanes carefully before turning back to the matter at hand. “I can’t believe you never asked or looked it up. The whole _premise_ of the show is we teach famous people how to dance.”

A pause. “Well?” Amélie drawled.

“Well, what?”

“Are you going to tell me?”

“You can use Google, too,” he groused.

She sneered. “Tell me.”

So he did. He recounted the tale of how Jack had been captured after sniper fire had separated him from his platoon, then taken to a prisoner camp where three missing journalists were held along with about fifteen other soldiers. He had orchestrated their escape, but during the actual escape attempt, one of the journalists was discovered. Jack had hung back to make sure the woman made it out, holding off the pursuers long enough that the entire group of prisoners made it to safety, only to be recaptured himself. He’d been kept alive because his captors had wanted bargaining chips, and had lost all of their other options when the soldiers and journalists had escaped.

Jack had never really talked about his time in captivity, but his Wikipedia page did say that the journalists (who had been held the longest at the prisoner camp prior to the escape) had been deprived of food and sleep for prolonged periods of time, and beaten when they failed to comply with their captors’ wishes. Jack’s own treatment was unlikely to have been as gentle.

He was held for sixteen days in those conditions before a rescue team could safely be sent in.

“He was given some medals and honorably discharged after that,” Gabriel finished the story as they pulled into the parking garage at their apartment building, “and his story went viral after an interview with Ellen. Hell, there’s a meme of his picture photoshopped to look more like Uncle Sam.”

“Well, shit,” Amé said. “No wonder the producers keep trying to get him to talk about his military time. What a story.”

Carson, the main interviewer, had also been digging pretty hard at Fareeha. He had pressed for details about her mother and her immigration to the United States after being orphaned. Fareeha had known it was coming but it still rankled Gabriel to see his new friend have to answer difficult and painful questions for what would ultimately be soundbites meant to make home viewers sympathize with her. It was… voyeuristic. Then again, he’d known this was the name of the game since before he’d been an instructor for the show.

His own interviews were less intensive, since his story had been told during his previous tenures on the show. Now they just hit the highlights of his life. Besides, people watched _Star Dance_ for the celebrities, not the troupe.

“You know he’ll have to talk about it a little or you’ll never make it past week three,” Gabriel said as they started up the stairs. “Viewers eat that shit up. The boring contestants never make it as far as the ones with tragic backstories.”

Amélie paused in the doorway to the second floor hall, which led to her apartment. “I’d rather lose than make him bare his soul about all of that if he doesn’t want to,” she said quietly, a rare sincere moment that made Gabriel’s heart clench.

He reached out and she put her hand in his for a brief squeeze. “I know, Amé. You’re a good person.”

She frowned. “I don’t know about that, Gabriel.”

* * *

Dr. Angela Ziegler checked in on Gabriel and Fareeha on their third day of cha-cha-cha practice. It was standard practice for Angela to come by once in awhile and assess the dancers, make sure they were stretching right, eating and resting well, and generally staying safe and healthy. It was far easier for the doctor to make rounds weekly than for Winston and the production company to have to handle trips to the ER for broken bones and torn ligaments.

Gabriel let Angela poke at his knees as usual; she knew he had old knee injuries and never let him escape her attention without checking on them for signs of inflammation or irritation. She then walked him through her standard set of stretches, keeping an eye on his range of motion and for any signs of pain, to make sure he wasn’t hiding pulled muscles or sprained joints.

“All clear,” she told him with a smile. “Looking good, Gabriel.”

“Thanks, doc.” He settled against the wall to wait while Angela turned her attention to Fareeha.

“Your turn, Ms. Amari. Are you ready?”

“Only if you call me Fareeha, Dr. Z,” Fareeha answered, and Gabriel raised an eyebrow at the swagger in the chef’s step as she approached the doctor. Angela actually blushed a little, and Gabriel’s eyebrows climbed higher. Well, well, well.

“Very well, Fareeha. Now, tell me, how are you feeling? Any soreness in your muscles or joint pain?”

The exam went on, and Gabriel took the opportunity to live-text Amé about the blushes and giggles unfolding before him as Angela and Fareeha flirted outrageously through the entire exam.

_i swear to god fareeha is flexing to impress angie with her muscles_

_not kidding, angie just asked f how she keeps in such good shape_

_holy shit amari is one smooth motherfucker should i ask for lessons_

_i think… i think they’re swapping phone numbers_

_is angie even gay? i didn’t even realize, i’m the worst at telling this shit_

Finally Amé sent back, _Gabriel. I don’t care._

He sighed and set down his phone.

* * *

It’d been a long day working with Fareeha on their choreography, but Gabriel had to get a few hours in on his commissions or he was going to miss deadlines and lose money. So he flipped on the TV and let a baking show provide background noise while he laid out the patterns for the costumes he’d been asked to make.

This part was his least favorite part of making custom outfits. He liked the detail work, the embroidery and fine points that came at the end. Building the basics of the costumes was less exciting, but at least it went faster since he could follow patterns and routines.

He was just about finished with the skirt of the dress he was making when someone knocked on his door. He glanced at his phone, but no one had texted him about stopping by. Probably Amélie, then. She sometimes came up to his apartment if she was bored or needed a second opinion about some choreography. He made sure his pins were all safely in pincushions before heading to the door.

He opened the door to see—

“Jack?” Gabriel frowned. “What are you doing here?”

“Ah,” the blond man said, looking a bit uncomfortable. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have bothered you.”

“No, it’s okay. Are you alright? Want to come in?”

“Thanks,” Jack said as Gabriel stepped aside. The soldier followed him into his apartment, hands in his pockets and shoulders hunched up. “I’m okay, just…. Well, Fareeha seems to have made a new friend, and Amélie and I had to talk about tomorrow’s interviews but she seemed pretty distracted, so I….”

“You saying you were lonely, Captain America?” Gabe said with a grin.

Jack puffed out his cheeks in a slow exhale as he ran a hand through his hair, then he chuckled a little bashfully. “Yeah, I guess so. Amélie said you usually stay up working and watching TV, so…. But I can leave if you—” 

“No, you can hang here. I’m gonna keep working but you’re welcome to stick around and watch TV or whatever. Want a beer?”

Jack agreed and Gabriel grabbed them both a beer from the fridge, popping the top of Jack’s off before handing it over, then taking care of his own. They settled onto the couches.

“What are you working on?”

Gabriel explained his side business, how cosplayers who loved to dress up but didn’t have the time or know-how to make their own costumes would pay him hundreds, even thousands of dollars to hand-make their outfits. Jack watched attentively as Gabriel sewed the last seam into the skirt he was finishing, then flipped the material around and held the article aloft.

“Ta-da, magic girl skirt, done.”

Jack shook his head. “Amazing.”

“What do you do for a living these days, Morrison? I read your Wikipedia page, it says you were honorably discharged after everything that went down.”

Jack was quiet for a minute, scratching at his chin. “You read all that stuff?”

“Well, yeah. It’s not everyday this show brings on a military person.” Gabriel watched Jack’s expression sour.

“I guess so,” he said, then sighed. “Guess I’m gonna have to talk about it at some point.”

“I mean… not to pry, but, you knew that was part of the show’s schtick before you signed on, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, of course,” Jack agreed immediately.

“So if you didn’t want to talk about it, why’d you agree in the first place?”

“I….”

Gabriel realized that he’d pushed too far as Jack fumbled for words, looking extremely uncertain. “Shit, sorry, Jack, it’s not my business. I’ve lived in LA my whole life, so I’ve got a kind of skewed sense of privacy.”

“No, you’re right though. I kinda thought maybe this would be a fun way to ease myself into telling people about it, you know. Sprinkle it in while doing the dancing and seeing Los Angeles. A lot of people already know what’s on the Wiki page, anyway. Guess it isn’t gonna be easy no matter how I do it.”

They lapsed into silence for a while, until Gabriel offered a second beer. They drank their beers and watched Gordon Ramsay yell at a mediocre chef for a while, commenting off and on about how they’d have to ask Fareeha if she knew Ramsay, or if these TV chefs were as bad as the Brit said.

“How’s the cha-cha going?” Gabriel asked.

“Good, I think. Amélie doesn’t hold back on critiques, so I guess I’d know if it was terrible.”

Gabriel laughed. “That’s true. If she says you’re doing good, then you must be. Getting the hip action down?”

Jack got to his feet and demonstrated the basic step, making Gabriel chuckle again. “Ah, gringo, you _are_ trying, I can see that.”

Jack pouted—pouted!—like a child. “Not good?”

Gabriel got to his feet, stood next to Jack. “Keep your weight leg straight,” he said, doing the steps himself and showing Jack. “That way your hip can rotate without making your step so erratic.”

Jack tried again, but clearly hadn’t fully understood. Gabriel rolled his eyes and stood behind the blond man, one hand planted firmly on his right hip. “Do it again, but don’t move _here_ , move _there_.” Jack did the step and when his right hip started to move out, Gabriel firmly pressed on it to force him to keep his leg straight. “That’s it,” Gabriel encouraged as Jack started the motion again and succeeded in rotating leftwards instead of rightwards.

“That makes so much more sense!” Jack exclaimed, very pleased with himself. Gabriel stepped back and let him keep trying the improved step, suddenly acutely aware that Jack had let him invade his personal space like that so easily. Christ. He’d joked weeks ago with Amélie over sushi about how good Jack would look bent over the bed, crying his name…. Watching the ex-soldier cha-cha in his apartment, that mental image came back with a vengeance, and his mind ran with it, imagining that touch on Jack’s hip but firmer, lower, pulling them together— 

“You’re a fucking disgrace!” Gordon Ramsay screamed from the television, startling both Jack and Gabe. They stared at the TV, then at each other, and then at the wall. “You couldn’t fucking cook a lobster if it swam into your—”

Gabriel clicked the TV off. “That’s enough of that,” he muttered.

“Thanks for showing me that movement, Gabriel,” Jack said, and Gabe thought he perhaps saw a faint flush to the man’s cheeks. “I guess it kinda counts as cheating, but we’re not on the same team, so… does it?”

Ha. Not on the same team, indeed. Gabe sat back down and set the skirt aside to start on the bodice of the dress.

* * *

Once again Fareeha and Gabriel performed admirably for the judges, taking the top score for the night. Fareeha danced like a new woman, energized and having the best time of her life. Gabriel figured a certain blond doctor was responsible for putting the spring in his partner’s step, and he certainly wasn’t going to complain.

Sombra and her partner did well, advancing with no problem. Satya’s partner had trouble with the footwork, earning them a rather low score, while Hana Song once again impressed judges and competitors alike with her lively performance. Jack and Amélie came in right in the middle, not a bad spot to be but one that left them both a little disappointed. Lena and her partner Grant Southfield scored badly due to a few missed steps. After live voting was finished, Satya and her partner lost, securing Lena’s place in the next week’s competition, but Gabriel didn’t think she and Grant would survive another week, given how stiff the man had been.

“Drinks tonight?” Fareeha asked after they’d been dismissed, waving Angela over to join them. Sombra and Amélie immediately agreed, but Gabriel didn’t think he could stand watching Jack flirt with women at the bar again, so he made his excuses and took Amélie’s car, telling her to call a cab since she’d be too drunk to drive home, anyway.

Once home, he pictured the way Jack had perfectly executed the step he’d shown him days ago during the competition, and jerked off to the memory of that muscled hip swaying under his hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please consider leaving kudos/comments, it's so helpful to me in so many ways!


	4. Swing

# Swing

The news that Gerard, Amélie’s husband, wanted a divorce came the night of the first day of the competition’s third week. This week's dance was swing, and Amélie and Gabriel had both had great days with their celebrity partners, and followed by an enjoyable evening out for their bimonthly sushi dinner.

When they stopped to get the mail before going upstairs to their respective homes, Gabriel's good mood plummeted at the small, sharp intake of breath that came from his best friend as she pulled an oversized envelope from Gerard’s lawyers out of her box. Gabriel met her wide eyes, kindly not saying anything about the tears glistening there. Amélie was proud to a fault, and eschewed emotional displays. So he waited for her cue, watching.

The writing had been on the wall for a while now. Their marriage hadn't been happy in years, and Gerard spent more time on business trips these days than he did in Los Angeles. Amélie rarely even wore her rings anymore. But last they had talked about it, she had been telling Gabriel that when Gerard came home late this month, she was going to really try, really engage with him sincerely and honestly, and see if they could start things down a path of mending and healing.

Apparently it was too late for that.

Amélie reached a hand out to him, and he took it. He held her hand all the way to her apartment, waited without a word while her other, shaking hand tried to get her keys from her purse. After her second failed attempt to unlock her door, he gently took the keys from her and slid the right one into the lock, twisting it and letting them into her home.

She paused at the kitchen counter, not meeting his eyes. “Thank you, Gabriel. Good night.”

“Amé,” he said, helpless. “I'll stay.”

“No.”

He stood there for another few seconds, trying to think of what to say, but there was nothing to _be_ said. She knew he'd do anything for her. When she needed him, she would ask, and he would be there.

* * *

At six in the morning, Gabriel was knocking on Amélie’s door.

She opened the door, thrust the car keys at him, and said, “I'll call Winston. You can tell Jack, he should know.”

Christ. He knew it was her marriage falling apart but it felt like _his_ heart was breaking.

Upon arriving at the studio, he found Winston waiting with a sleepy looking Jack and Fareeha. Winston led them to his office, and Athena mercifully delivered coffee as they all settled into the chairs and couch arranged in the middle of the spacious room.

“Is Amélie okay?” Jack asked.

“Ah,” Winston sighed. “She is physically unharmed. But no, I don't think she is okay.”

“She got divorce papers in the mail last night,” Gabe said. Fareeha and Jack looked stricken.

“She's married?” Fareeha said.

“Not for long,” Gabriel grunted.

Winston cleared his throat. “Yes, well. Amélie’s marriage aside. Jack, she won't be here today. We have a few options for how to move forward.”

As it turned out, one of the options that Winston suggested was that Gabriel train both Jack and Fareeha this week, to ultimately perform a dance together as two competitors. This was unprecedented in the history of the show; in the past, if someone had to miss some time, one of the previously eliminated instructors or a standby instructor would step in. But Winston knew that Jack, Fareeha, Gabriel, and Amélie had started to become good friends, and moreover liked the idea of changing things around to surprise the audience.

“But wouldn’t we be doomed to get the lowest score?” Fareeha pointed out. “I mean, Jack and I are okay, but everyone else gets to dance with professionals.”

“The judges will take that into account when scoring you,” Winston said. “And besides, the emotional appeal of the story, of you three coming together to help a friend in need… the voters will eat that up. Especially if you pull off a reasonably good dance. Even if you end up in the bottom two, you won’t be going home this week.”

So it was agreed, and Winston juggled the schedules to give Gabriel some extra time with his two competitors over the course of the week. Satya was called and agreed to come by for a few hours here and there to help out.

The interviews were an odd mix of sincere worry about Amélie, excitement to mix up their routine, and dancing around the specifics of why Amélie wouldn't be present this week. Jack and Fareeha deferred to Gabriel to handle talking about Amélie. The interviewer liked the angle of Gabe and Amé being best friends and asked the right questions to frame the whole thing as a friend helping out a friend in crisis. It would make a nice story for the viewers without needing to lay Amélie’s failed marriage bare.

When practice wrapped for the day, Fareeha excused herself a bit guiltily, clearly feeling awkward about having a date with the doctor when Amélie was handling a fresh divorce. Jack and Gabe insisted she should have fun on her date; Amélie wasn't the type to want others to suffer on her behalf.

Jack looked sideways at Gabriel. “Wanna take Amé some food with me?”

Gabriel nodded, touched by Jack's thoughtfulness. Amélie had a bad habit of not eating when something big and emotional was happening. The higher her stress level, the less likely she was to ingest the minimum number of calories needed to sustain life on a daily basis. “That'd be good. I know just what to get her, but don't expect a warm welcome.”

* * *

The next three days followed a similar routine. Dance practice all day, interviews, take dinner to Amélie. Once, on the second day, she invited them to stay, but wasn’t feeling up to it the other nights. She explained to Gabriel in text messages that she had been spending a lot of time on the phone with Gerard, trying to work out a timeline for lawyer meetings.

So the other nights, Jack would just follow Gabriel upstairs and the two would eat in his apartment. Sometimes they watched TV together and Gabe worked on his sewing projects. Jack watched him sew with great interest, offering to help whenever Gabriel seemed to need a hand or was looking for a particular color of thread.

They only had one more day until the competition, and Satya was helping Gabriel out all day. Fareeha and Jack had learned the choreography by now, but there were so many little details out of place that Gabe was starting to feel like they were doomed to be kicked from the competition no matter what Winston had said.

At lunch, Satya pulled Gabriel aside. “You are stressed,” she said, narrowing her eyes at him as though she were asking a question rather than making a statement.

“Yeah, I am,” he confirmed, and she nodded.

“Gabriel, you know I don’t notice these things as easily as others. If I can tell, your dancers can tell. You are feeding them negativity on the eve of the competition.”

He sighed, rubbing at his temple. “You’re right. I just don’t want to let Amélie down, but there’s so much to do before tomorrow.”

Satya nodded again, understanding. “Let me work with Fareeha alone after lunch,” she said. “I have some ideas for helping her get her posture in order. You can work with Jack and make sure he understands the footwork for that lift in the second half that he’s been missing.”

Gabriel was secretly glad that Satya didn’t seem to pick up on the little distressed noise he made. Working closely with Jack this week had done nothing for his R-rated thoughts about the man, and he’d been overcorrecting by hyperfocusing on Fareeha. Satya was right; separating them to do some technique work for a little while would be useful. Fareeha would undoubtedly be more receptive to learning from Satya right now, given how critical Gabriel had been earlier in the day.

And that was how Gabriel found himself alone in a dance studio with Jack Morrison, trying to not get tongue-tied and red-faced while offering advice.

“Gabe,” Jack said after about twenty minutes of this. “What is going on?”

“What?”

Jack raised an eyebrow. “You’re kinda freaking out here, man. Is Amélie okay?”

“Yeah, it’s—it’s not about Amélie.”

“Then what is it about? The competition?”

Gabriel shrugged uncomfortably. “I mean, yeah, kinda. It’s just…” _It’s just I can’t stop fantasizing about getting you naked and doing an entirely different kind of dance._ Ha. No way he was saying that. He latched on to what he had said earlier to Satya. “I just want to make sure you and Fareeha do well. It’s a lot of pressure.”

Jack smiled, laid a hand on Gabe’s arm. _That’s what you get for not telling the truth, Reyes,_ he scolded himself. _More contact instead of less._

“Well, I’m ready to do my part,” Jack said with a serious little nod. “Teach me Gabriel Reyes, you’re my only hope.”

Gabe rolled his eyes. “You’re lucky it’s swing and not salsa this week,” he said, moving to stand next to Jack and cueing up the music from his phone.

“Why?”

_Because there’s no way I could salsa next to you without getting a boner._

“Because I'm less forgiving in salsa instruction, _cariño_. Let’s get this footwork right.”

* * *

Gabriel watched nervously from the side of the dancefloor as Fareeha and Jack took the stage together. Thunderous applause greeted them, the live audience having just seen the narrative segment stitching together the story of Amélie’s absence, how Fareeha and Jack had banded together to help her out, with Gabriel solo coaching them. The editors had done a good job cutting everything together so that the few moments of Fareeha nursing a stubbed toe and Jack’s one moment of frustration looked like momentous pain and angst overcome by grit and caring advice from Gabriel. When the music began, Gabriel was aware of the camera glued to his face but couldn’t help doing little sways and half-steps of the choreography as he watched his ducklings fly.

Half a minute into the dance and his gaze was riveted to Jack. He barely even saw Fareeha’s graceful flip as he watched Jack execute the footwork to perfection, better than he had even yesterday during their one-on-one practice. He must have gone home and kept working on it.

When the music stopped and Jack and Fareeha struck their final poses, Gabriel actually jumped up and down, cheering for them, before remembering the camera was on him.

The host of the show ushered Gabriel onto the stage and the audience went wild for him. Fareeha and Jack rushed him, both throwing their arms around him. He was aware of getting kisses on cheeks (from Fareeha? From Jack? He couldn’t tell) and then they were standing in a row, Gabriel in the middle with his arms looped around each of their waists, and their arms interlocking behind his back.

The judges gave their scores, a generous 7-8-7. Held to the same standards as the other competitors, Gabriel suspected the dance would have gotten closer to fives and sixes. Fareeha and Jack had done well, but their dance simply wasn’t as technically difficult as those performed by a pair with a professional dancer.

Fareeha finished telling the host something about how much it meant to her that she had good friends in the competition, and the host turned her attention to Gabe.

“Gabriel, the cameras caught your tension and concentration during the dance. You were watching so closely! What were you seeing from the sidelines?”

_Jack Morrison,_ his brain supplied. Thankfully his mouth remembered how to do this part without his brain’s help. “I’m just so proud of them for taking on this challenge, Tina,” he said, grinning at Fareeha as she punched his shoulder lightly. “It means a lot to me that they were willing to take this risk to help out Amélie.”

As Winston had predicted, the home audience loved them, and they easily won the fan favorite vote for the night. Meanwhile Lena and her partner scraped by because one of the other pairs, a new instructor and her famous YouTuber partner, completely fell apart when the young man stepped on the instructor’s toes and promptly dropped her out of one of her flips. She wasn’t hurt, but the judges bombed them and the home audience didn’t seem too sympathetic.

Hana Song and her partner earned the top score for the night, getting a 10-9-9.

Gabriel was packing up his stuff to head home, exhausted, when his phone dinged. Amélie had texted him a picture—apparently while watching the live episode tonight, she had paused the show and then used her phone to take a picture of her TV screen to get a grainy, glare-obscured image.

Gabriel stared at the sight of himself, celebrating the successful dance on stage with his arms locked around Jack, and Jack pressing a kiss into Gabriel’s cheek. Fareeha was on his other side, hugging him as well, but Gabe didn’t need the caption to know why Amélie had sent this picture.

_Dancing less like a straight boy every week._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? Comments? Kudos if you like? 
> 
> Hope you're enjoying!


	5. Foxtrot

# Foxtrot

“Stop fussing over me, Reyes,” Amélie snapped when Gabriel asked for the third time since getting in the car if she was ready to go back to work. “I had a week off. It's enough.”

He wasn't so sure about that, given how badly she had reacted to the divorce papers, but he trusted her to know when she needed space and when she needed distraction. 

“Okay, fine. In that case, what are you going to tell the interviewers? You know the producers are just dying to follow up on last week's tear-jerker.”

She made a _tsk_ sound, braking hard at a red light. Gabe rocked forward in his seat, his seatbelt locking and digging painfully into his shoulder. “I'll worry about that,” she said coldly. “You worry about whether you can shape Fareeha up for a decent foxtrot.”

Even though the dig seemed to be at Fareeha, Gabriel knew the Amélie was actually mocking him. His foxtrot choreography was notoriously stale and underwhelming. On a scale of jazz to hip-hop, Gabriel was a solid Kanye West. Swing was more exciting, the poorman’s jazz style, full of throws and flips and fun. Waltzes knew they were sentimental garbage. But the foxtrot wanted to be both cool and classy, and, to Gabriel's estimation, failed at both. 

“Alright, you witch. It's on. Sushi night says Fareeha and I score higher than you and Jack this week.”

“Deal,” she sighed, sounding utterly bored. “I don't mind you paying for my sushi.”

* * *

The night before the competition, Winston announced that this season's week four surprise was that they would be performing their dances outdoors at a music festival with live bands. During the day, before filming, the competitors would each be given two full-access passes to the festival. This was well received news, people immediately finding or texting their friends to start planning for the day.

“I do not do music festivals,” Amélie scoffed, turning away and stalking to her locker to gather her things.

Jack raised a questioning eyebrow at Gabriel, who shrugged. “She doesn't like being outside for too long. You know how it is, humidity makes her hair frizz, sunlight burns her alive.”

Jack cackled, then caught sight of something and nudged Gabe to make him look. Following the soldier’s gaze, Gabriel saw Fareeha and Angela sequestered by the lockers, eagerly scrolling through their phones to see the band lineups for the different stages.

“Don't get drunk before the dance!” Gabriel yelled at Fareeha, who made a show of rolling her eyes and flipping him off before turning back to her phone.

“So, do _you_ do music festivals?” Jack asked, still smiling fondly in Fareeha’s direction.

Gabriel's heart stuttered. _He's not asking you out, don't be so desperate._ “Sure,” he said. “I dig live music, and unlike our resident vampire, sunshine goes well with my skin tone.”

“Great, so you'll come with me?”

_Maybe he is asking you out?_

Before he could respond, Jack rushed on. “I don't really have any friends in town besides you, since Amélie and Fareeha clearly won't be going with me, and my family isn't here, so I mean. I have the extra ticket and—”

“Jack, you're rambling,” Gabriel said with a forced grin. It _was_ funny, but he mostly just felt stupid for getting his hopes up. Of course Jack was inviting him as a last resort. He'd rather have taken the world's newest divorcee-to-be had she not been satan spawn. “I….” He wanted to say yes. He really did. But god, could his heart handle a day of music festival with Jack Morrison, straight boy extraordinaire?

“Oh, come on, Gabe, someone has to help me look cool. I'll stand out like a sore thumb on my own.”

Gabe snorted a laugh. “Well, since you asked so nicely….”

Jack pumped his fist triumphantly, but before he could say anything, Amélie appeared at Gabriel's shoulder looking quite displeased. “Gabriel,” she snapped. “Are you ready to leave or are you calling a cab?” She didn't wait for an answer, instead turning immediately to stalk off in the direction of the car.

Gabriel made a “yeesh” face to Jack to excuse himself and took off after his ride. The other man laughed and called after him, “I'll text you to make plans!”

* * *

They met up around ten in the morning, because before they could be turned loose at the festival they had to let the camera crew film them a little bit doing festival-ish things. Jack was asked why he had brought Gabriel along and explained that they had become good friends and that he didn’t really have anyone from his non-competition life here to bring, anyway. Then the cameras had them sit at a table and eat together (neither was hungry but they dug in so that they could be left alone), and find an early set they didn’t hate, so that they would have some footage of more than just the two men standing in semi-deserted common areas.

On the way to the stage, Jack pulled Gabriel off to the side to compete in one of those water pistol carnival games, except the water pistols were more like water heavy assault rifles. Jack hoisted his up into position and for a second, Gabriel could picture him in his army uniform, ready for combat operations. It made his gut twist a little.

Then the timer dinged and he was losing pathetically to the laughing ex-soldier, whose aim was far better than his own even with fake firearms. They paid for a few more rounds, Gabriel unwilling to admit defeat, and soon enough Jack had won enough games in a row to qualify for one of the ridiculously huge stuffed animal prizes, and promptly selected a big spider.

“For Amélie,” he said. “Maybe it’ll cheer her up a bit.”

Gabriel chuckled. “Definitely fits her aesthetic.”

After they got a few shots of Gabriel and Jack at the stage, bobbing along to the music, the camera crew thanked them and disappeared. Production only had a few hours to turn the music festival footage around into cohesive stories for everyone, so in the meantime the contestants and their guests were turned loose to enjoy. Warm-ups for the competition started at 5:00, and it wasn’t yet noon.

It was a big enough festival that the stages had full sets all day, and there were plenty of people who looked like they hadn’t left the festival grounds once since it began two days ago. Droves of high and drunk people started to flood the park around 1:00 when the more interesting sets started, and the noise level kicked up a notch as more and more bands started competing for audiences.

Jack let Gabriel haul him to a hip-hop set, but right before they entered the crowd, Jack pulled out some strange looking earbuds. They were wireless and had speakers, but also had larger foam pads than most of their kind, more similar to foam earplugs. Then he held up a bluetooth headset, one of the little ones that curled around someone’s ear and had a microphone, like what you'd wear while driving to do hands-off phone calls. He handed the headset to Gabriel.

“They’re connected, so I can hear you easily even with the earbuds in,” Jack explained.

“Okay?” Gabriel said, confused. “But why? Isn’t the whole point of live music to hear it?”

Jack smiled a little. “Yeah, I can still hear it through these. I just can’t do the constant loud music, and there’s inevitably going to be some kind of loud banging sound. I’d rather not hulk out on everyone here, so these keep the sounds muffled enough that nothing will, you know. Set me off.” He looked at the ground while he spoke, clearly a bit uncomfortable revealing this information.

“Oh,” Gabriel said, heart clenching at the implications of what Jack was saying. He immediately clipped the bluetooth headset into place. “Cool.”

Jack looked up, surprised. “‘Oh, cool?’” he repeated. “That’s it?”

“Yeah, man. What did you think I was gonna say?”

Jack settled the earbuds into his ears, and a little crease in his forehead that Gabriel hadn’t even noticed before disappeared. “I dunno, sometimes people think I’m being a baby.”

Gabriel snarled at the thought, feeling far too protective and angry on Jack’s behalf at the thought of people shaming the veteran for taking care of himself. “Those people suck,” he said. “Do you show them your Purple Heart and Prisoner of War Medal and tell them to eat shit?”

Jack grinned. “Usually I go for the Medal of Honor. Bigger payoff.”

The band started playing and Gabriel grabbed Jack’s arm and pulled him into the crowd, joining the gathering people with some excited fist pumping and a whoop. A dance circle opened up soon enough and it didn’t take long for Gabe to be in the middle of it, facing off with breakdancers and kids who called him “gramps.”

After a few minutes of this, Jack snatched his sleeve and hauled him out of the circle, laughing. “If you tire yourself out before the competition, Fareeha will kill you!” he shouted over the noise.

Gabriel conceded the point with a guilty expression. “True,” he replied, remembering he didn’t have to yell since his bluetooth headset would pick up his voice regardless. “I better be careful, too, since I bet Amélie next week’s sushi dinner that Fareeha and I would win.”

“I’m not going to go easy just because I know your sushi is on the line,” Jack warned him.

* * *

As it turned out, Jack didn’t _have_ to go easy on them. Fareeha and Gabe were oddly out of sync with each other, and steps that they had landed every time with ease during practice, they fumbled and stumbled over on the stage. It was a testament to Fareeha’s talent that they recovered in the second half and pulled together a nice finale, but Gabriel’s foxtrot choreography left the judges less than satisfied. They waited out the other dances nervously, knowing that they had to rely on the audience vote at this point to get them through to the next week.

They were near the end of the lineup, so they only got to watch two other acts. Lena and her baseball player scored quite well with the judges but hadn’t garnered much sympathy from the audience voters that week due to a fight during practice caught on camera. Still, it looked like they had worked through it, and the audience probably liked the redemption storyline well enough, so Gabriel predicted they’d make it to the next week.

The last pair to perform was Hana and her professional partner, a man Gabriel barely knew named Simon Antonoff. Once again, the pair dazzled, leaving Fareeha and Gabriel sweating the final results.

The audience votes came in, and Gabriel and Fareeha heaved sighs of relief when they saw themselves in the middle of the board. “Still riding good vibes from last week,” Gabriel said to his partner, hugging her tight for a minute. “We’ll have to work extra hard next week.”

She nodded her agreement, then they turned to watch the eliminated pair make their exit.

The producers had warned them that the show wouldn’t quite end at the announcement of the elimination, and to standby for some surprises. So they watched while last year’s winners took the stage and performed a freestyle dance. As they finished, Gabriel heard the telltale whistle of fireworks and looked up in time to see the first set exploding over the stage. The crowd cheered enthusiastically as last year’s favorites bowed under a canopy of green, white, and blue bursts of light.

If Gabriel hadn’t been hyper aware of Jack, he easily would have missed the other man’s quiet but hurried exit to backstage. He frowned, thinking it was unlike the other man to leave before the official end of his obligations. Another firework cracked above his head, and his stomach wrenched as their conversation earlier about loud banging noises came back to him.

He took off running, ducking behind the heavy black curtains separating the performance area from the backstage area, looking around for the ex-soldier as more fireworks popped overhead. Suddenly full of rage, Gabriel made a mental note to demand an explanation from Winston as to why, exactly, he thought it would be a good idea to have surprise explosives during the season they had a soldier with PTSD on the show.

Gabe skidded around a corner in the depths of bare concrete hallways to find Jack sitting against the wall, earbuds in, hands clamped over his ears, eyes tightly shut. Shit.

“Jack,” he choked out, but he knew his attempt wasn’t loud enough to penetrate the earbuds. He cleared his throat and tried again, raising his voice but standing back, not sure what the other man’s reaction would be. “Jack!”

The soldier was on his feet in an instant, eyes wild, before he caught sight of Gabriel and slumped back against the wall, taking deep calming breaths.

“Are you okay?” Gabriel asked loudly. Jack shrugged, shook his head, then slid back down to his seated position. Unsure what else to do or say, Gabriel just stood there for a minute. He wanted to help, but he had never really been in this situation before. Did he try to talk to him? Give him a hug? That seemed like a bad idea.

Jack glanced up at him, then tilted his head to the side, his eyes cutting to the floor next to him. It was a clear invitation to sit, so Gabriel sat.

For a few minutes, they just sat silently like that, shoulder to shoulder, eyes forward, breathing. Jack was clearly counting his breaths, the rhythm too steady and slow to be natural, so Gabriel took up the pattern and matched his friend’s counts. After a minute or two of this, Jack shifted, fishing into his pocket, and produced the bluetooth headset.

Gabriel settled it into his ear, and said, “Hey.”

“Hey,” Jack said, voice rough.

“Fireworks, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“Is, uh. Is there anything I can do? To help?”

Jack was silent long enough that Gabriel wasn’t sure he was going to answer, but eventually he said, “Can we talk about something? Anything?”

Never was it harder for Gabriel to think of something to talk about, so he desperately latched on to the first topic that came to mind. He started describing the new flamenco dress he was starting for Sombra. She had a competition coming up and had asked him to make her outfit, so he was debating the colors and styles. Jack asked questions, drew out more about Gabriel’s friendship with Sombra and how they had started doing various Latin dance competitions together a few years back, to mild success.

As he was regaling Jack with the tale of a disastrous competition that they had been underprepared for, Amélie turned the corner and caught sight of them. At first she looked angry, but that changed as she took in the sight of Jack’s pale face and red-rimmed eyes, the earbuds and headset.

“What’s going on?” she asked. “Are you okay?”

Gabriel glanced at Jack, who bit his lip and shrugged. “Sorry, Amélie,” he said, taking out one of his earbuds. “I… the fireworks kinda made me… panic a little.”

She immediately looked sympathetic, nodding her understanding. Then her face clouded with anger. “Winston,” she growled, looking over her shoulder. “He should have known better.”

Gabriel snorted. “I was thinking the same thing.”

“No, it’s fine, don’t make it a thing,” Jack groaned, rubbing at his eyes.

“Well, whether or not _this_ is a thing,” Amélie said with a sigh, turning her attention to Gabriel, “ _you_ are in trouble.”

“What? Why?”

“Before they stopped filming the show, they called you and Fareeha up to the stage,” Amélie said. “The judges did this dramatic thing where they wanted to make some kind of point about not resting on laurels and working hard, and you weren’t there. Fareeha had to face it all on her own.”

Gabriel exchanged a worried glance with Jack, then tilted his head back, letting it thump against the concrete wall. “Fuck,” he muttered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments? Questions? Concerns? Screams of angst (they can be unrelated to the fic, I'm here for you, the world is terrible)? 
> 
> Please leave kudos and comments if you like, your interaction keeps the rapid update pace fun for me, too!


	6. Quickstep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm traveling for the next 10 days so updates will probably slow as my wifi access might be impeded. Fear not, the fic is never abandoned.

# Quickstep

“Absolutely not,” Angela said, a cross frown in Winston’s direction as Gabriel sent the producer a pleading look. “As your doctor and your friend, I insist. You cannot compete this week, Gabriel.”

“So what, you're going to give Fareeha a new partner? I can't come back next week if you do that! Not after the end of last week's competition. The audience would never forgive me. You're dooming us to lose, Angela.”

Angela gave him a hard look. “Is this competition worth more to you than your knees?”

Gabriel grumbled something about beating Amélie before settling back in his seat, arms crossed.

Winston sighed. “Gabriel, if Angela says you need to rest, I am not going to argue with her. You certainly don't seem to be in any condition to dance.”

That much was true, too obvious for even Gabriel's stubbornness to deny. He sat on Winston’s couch with his legs propped up on pillows, ice packs strapped to his swollen knees by Angela's professional hand. Fareeha sat next to him, a heat pack on her thigh.

It was the second day of practice and Gabriel and Fareeha had been working harder than ever, determined to make up for last week's fiasco. Fareeha had forgiven Gabriel immediately for his absence when she heard the reason, but they knew the audience wouldn't understand since they would not get the whole story about Jack and his PTSD. So they'd been pushing themselves, their competitive natures feeding off each other, right until the moment that Gabriel ignored telltale signs of fatigue in his legs and insisted on another run through.

The instant his feet left the ground, he knew what the outcome of this “one last lift” would be. He did his best to protect Fareeha as he fell, but that meant he couldn't avoid landing on his feet when he should have tried to fall on his side to avoid the impact on his old injuries. His legs collapsed under him immediately, and Fareeha had stumbled away, overcorrecting from the sudden loss of his support and pulling a muscle in her leg.

If he was being honest with himself, he knew that it would take at least four days for his knees to heal up enough for him to keep dancing. Four days minimum of rest, ice, ibuprofen, and crutches.

“Listen,” Winston said, sighing again. “You've done me a big favor already this season when you changed your routine to help Amélie. And I know it was my fault, what happened at the end of last week's competition. I appreciate that you put your friends first, Gabriel. Now you have to put your health first. You and Fareeha take this week off to heal, and you'll rejoin the competition next week. We'll show footage of the fall and you can do an interview about working too hard. I'll have Tina do the announcement, she'll put a good spin on it for you.”

And that was how Gabriel found himself sitting on his couch all day on what should have been the third day of practice for the fifth week of competition. He left the TV on and settled in with his legs elevated and his embroidery in his lap. At least he could catch up on the time-consuming detail work for his commissions.

By three o’clock he was eyesore from the sewing and grumpy from the inactivity. Restless. So he strapped on his knee braces, decided against the crutches, and hobbled down to the curb to catch a taxi to the fabric store. He had the specifications for the materials he would need for Sombra’s flamenco dress, and wanted to get started. 

After ten minutes standing on the curb waiting for the taxi, a car ride from hell, and thirty minutes wandering the store and selecting exactly the right shades of fabric, sewing thread, ribbon, and embroidery thread, Gabriel was starting to regret the decision to forego his crutches. He checked the time. Amélie would be leaving the studio any minute, maybe she would take pity and pick him up.

He sent her a text while the store employee cut and rolled his fabric.

 _Look for me in 15,_ she sent back immediately. Relieved he wouldn't have to deal with another taxi driver who was probably _trying_ to get him to vomit, he paid for his goods and settled onto the bench outside the shop to wait for Amélie.

Absorbed in his phone, he didn't notice the car pull up until its driver honked twice in quick succession to get him to look up. At first he was confused; this was not Amélie’s car. Then it made sense as his eyes fell on the driver of the bright blue sedan: none other than Jack Morrison.

He rolled his eyes and tried to clamber to his feet, but his left knee refused to take his weight and he thumped painfully back onto the bench. He tried again.

Jack was out of the car and halfway to Gabriel's side by the time the dancer managed to get his legs under himself.

“Where are your crutches?” Jack demanded.

Gabriel opened his mouth to answer but quickly lost his train of thought as Jack snaked his arm under his armpit and took most of Gabriel's weight onto his shoulders. Gabriel was a big guy, buff and broad chested. He wasn't used to the way that Jack seemed to so easily lift his bulk as if he weighed nothing, and it was… doing terrible things to him. So many possibilities his brain had not yet cooked up came readily to mind with this new sensation of being lifted. 

Luckily Jack took his lack of answer as stubbornness and started to lecture him about not listening to Angela's orders as he stuffed him into the passenger seat. Gabriel had the presence of mind to frantically tell Jack to grab his shopping bags from the bench before the ex-soldier shut the door.

“What's going on? Where's Amélie?” he asked as Jack got into the driver's seat and settled the shopping bags in the back.

“She had to meet her lawyers, so I volunteered to come get you.” Jack started the car back up and gave Gabriel some disapproving side eye, just for good measure, before turning the car around to merge into traffic.

“I could have called a taxi,” Gabriel grumbled.

Jack rolled his eyes. “You could have brought your crutches, too.”

“Jesus Christ, okay! I get it. Sorry.”

Upon arriving at the apartment building, Jack found visitor parking and insisted Gabriel wait while he came around to help support him for the walk to the elevator. One sad look at the staircase was enough for Jack to launch back into a stern lecture about taking better care of himself.

“...if you’d just been more careful in the first place, we wouldn’t be in this situation,” Jack rambled, his arm tightly wound around Gabriel’s waist.

“Well, there’s the silver lining, then,” Gabriel said without thinking.

Jack’s mouth snapped shut. He threw Gabriel a surprised look, which Gabriel refused to return, and then they just stood silently while the elevator slowly descended. _Good job, Gabriel,_ thought said man to himself. _Here’s Jack doing a perfectly nice thing for you, and we’ll just go ahead and make it weird. Great._

The elevator arrived, and one of Gabe’s neighbors got out, sizing up Jack before giving Gabriel a very not subtle thumbs up. Then Jack was hauling him into the elevator. The doors closed. Gabriel started to move away, since he could lean on the elevator handrail now and give Jack some space, which he probably wanted after the combination of Gabe’s offhand comment and the neighbor’s misunderstanding— 

Jack felt him start to move away and tightened his hold on Gabe’s waist.

Gabe coughed a little, face furiously red.

How was it possible to feel both so awkward and so completely desperate at the same time? Because on the one hand, that elevator ride was the longest of Gabriel’s life, and on the other hand, it was far too short.

Once inside the apartment, Jack settled Gabriel onto the couch. “Okay. What do you need?” he asked. “Ice? Ibuprofen? Let’s get those braces off.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I know,” Jack cut him off, kneeling down to gently coax first his left knee, then his right, out of the braces. Gabriel covered his face in his hands, unused to having someone take care of him, unsure how to react. And maybe a bit unable to look at Jack kneeling in front of him, gently touching his legs, without thinking how the scenario was painfully close to a different one he had maybe fantasized about. If his knees hadn't been so painful, closing his eyes wouldn't have been enough.

“Hey,” Jack said, voice suddenly soft. A hand caught one of Gabriel’s wrists and coaxed it gently away from his face. “It’s okay, Gabriel. We all need help sometimes.” His thumb rubbed on the back of Gabriel’s hand, comforting him. “Let me help you.”

“Okay,” Gabriel whispered. He didn’t mean for it to be a whisper but apparently his vocal chords were mutinying, and that was the best he could do.

So he sat there and watched Jack bustle about the apartment, bringing him water and ibuprofen, then ice packs and pillows to prop up his legs as he laid back to get his knees elevated above the level of his heart. Jack declared he was ordering delivery, then flipped on the TV for Gabriel while he hunted down a Chinese delivery menu and placed an order.

When he came back into the living room, he silently placed a pillow on the ground in front of Gabriel and sat down on it, leaning back against the front of the couch. Gabriel’s heart skipped a beat, and he let himself reach a hand out and rest it on Jack’s shoulder, trying to convey the gratitude he felt through the touch. Jack smiled, eyes staying on the TV. Gabe finally relaxed, let his hand slide down so that it was nestled between his hip and Jack’s back where it touched the couch, his little finger gently pressed into the other man's flesh.

When dinner arrived they rearranged the seating so that they were sitting side-by-side facing the television, with Gabe’s legs propped up on an improvised chair-and-pillow platform. Besides the injury, this felt almost routine. For the last three weeks, Jack had been popping by for dinner and TV at Gabriel’s place every few nights.

Less familiar was the dozing off. With so much of his body's energy diverted to repairing his knees, the excursion to the fabric store had exhausted him. He drifted off while watching Anna and Kareem argue about whether or not going $3,000 over budget was acceptable for buying their dream beach house.

When he woke up the TV was off and he was resting his head on Jack's shoulder, the other man absorbed in a news article on his phone. For a long moment, Gabriel kept still, wishing he could stay like that forever. He was actually surprised at the strength of his longing for this kind of contact with Jack. He had known he had it bad for the soldier in terms of wanting to fuck him, but this feeling was something else entirely. This was about companionship and intimacy and comfort.

 _You have to stop this,_ he told himself sharply. _This can only end badly._

So he forced himself to sit up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Jack looked up, smiled. God. Gabriel thought he would do anything to be the reason Jack Morrison smiled.

“What time is it?” Gabriel asked, biting back an apology for having fallen asleep on Jack. He wasn’t sorry, and he hated insincere apologies.

“Just past 11:00,” Jack answered, stretching his shoulders. “I should probably head home.” He stood up and stretched his back, groaning as stiff muscles released. Then he looked down at Gabriel. “You good for the night?”

Gabriel grinned. “I think I can manage to put myself to bed, Dad,” he said.

Jack rolled his eyes. “Just promise that tomorrow you won’t decide on another adventure without your crutches.”

“But how else will I make sure my knight in shining armor returns?”

Jack laughed. “Just ask,” he said.

Gabriel’s heart pounded. “Come over after dance practice tomorrow,” he said quietly, butterflies churning in his stomach.

“Okay,” Jack agreed just as quietly.

* * *

Gabriel watched the live episode of that week’s contest from his couch, ice packs on his knees. He was pleased with how the production team spun his and Fareeha’s absence, showing some footage of how hard they had been working, making the fall that had injured them look dramatic, showing Gabriel being tended to by Angela to garner some sympathy points. Tina said nice things about them and Fareeha had done an interview about how close the two of them had become and how she would rather Gabriel heal fully than continue in the competition, if it came to that.

Then the week’s dances started in earnest, and Jack and Amélie were up first. The narrative portion of their segment focused on Jack starting to open up about his military service. He told the story about being ambushed by snipers, separated from his unit, and captured. This was the part of the story that people generally knew, but the interviewers had done a good job drawing out his emotions. Then they pieced it together with an interview with his mother, who showed pictures of Jack’s childhood as well as his uniformed military photos. She talked a bit about how he was always a dutiful son and had been changed by his time as a prisoner of war.

Amélie and Jack performed their quickstep to thunderous applause. They did a marvelous job, pulling in a 9-9-8. They were both grinning ear-to-ear in their post-dance interview, and delivered a clearly planned shoutout to Gabriel, calling themselves “mom and dad” and sternly reminding him to stay off his knees and get plenty of sleep. 

Sombra and her partner performed well, followed by Hana Song and Simon. This pair got their lowest score yet, which was still quite high, but it was the first time since the beginning of the competition that they received serious critique. Lena looked great, the quickstep being her specialty, but her partner Grant just didn’t have the chops for it. Luckily for them, their interview portion had been particularly heart-wrenching this week and Grant was a fan favorite, so the audience vote carried them through. Not so for Lena’s girlfriend Emily, another of the instructors, whose partner was a comedian in between tours. The pair said farewell after a mediocre performance and bad showing in the home votes.

Gabriel switched the TV to a home improvement channel when the show ended, and turned his attention back to constructing the ruffled, tiered skirt of Sombra’s flamenco dress.

An hour later his phone dinged, and he checked it to find a text from Amélie telling him to come downstairs to her apartment. A follow-up text reminded him to use the elevator and was signed “Dad.” He grinned and set his sewing aside, standing up easily. (Angela had been by earlier to check on him and had been very pleased with his progress, telling him that he would be clear to start again next week as long as he spent the first few days instructing Fareeha before joining in the heavy work of practice.)

When he made it to Amélie’s apartment, he opened the door only to recoil back with a (very manly) screech at the sight of a four foot tall spider looming just inside, its face not even a foot from his own. Once the initial shock of it was over, he recognized it as the giant stuffed spider Jack had won for Amélie at the music festival, and it was moved aside to reveal not only a laughing Amélie and Jack, but also Fareeha, Angela, Lena, Emily, and Sombra.

“Very mature,” Gabriel said sarcastically. “Whose idea was that?”

Jack and Amélie pointed to each other immediately, but before Gabriel could respond, Lena was passing out champagne flutes. Emily proposed a toast, “To never having to dance with that asshole again!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you missed the intro notes:
> 
> I'm traveling for the next 10 days so updates will probably slow as my wifi access might be impeded. Fear not, the fic is never abandoned. 
> 
> Comments? Questions? Thoughts? I love you. :O As always your comments and kudos make my day!


	7. Contemporary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Helloooo still traveling but had a minute to post this so I figured I'd take care of it! Hope you enjoy! Not sure when the next one will be but probably in another few days.
> 
> content includes Jack talking a little about being held captive and his PTSD, so this chapter includes references to mild violence/maltreatment, and mild panic.

# Contemporary

Gabriel loved contemporary week, as it was the closest form of dance to his ballet roots that the show did. He spent the first two days coaching Fareeha in body movements and ballet basics while keeping his own participation to a minimum, fulfilling his promise to Angela to take it easy upon returning. On the third day, they started putting things together in earnest. 

The third day also led to their most emotional interview yet. Fareeha opened up about her mother’s death and how she had been adopted by her godfather, a German man called Reinhardt who lived in the US. She talked about immigrating to a new country at thirteen, the hardships of how her whole life had turned upside down. She talked about how Reinhardt had been unerringly patient with her as she adjusted to her new life, weathering her grief, anger, and rebellious stages with unconditional love and firm insistence that she receive ongoing counseling, to which she credited her now healthy lifestyle. Reinhardt was also the one who had gotten her into volleyball, which had turned into a high school and college passion.

Gabriel and Fareeha built their contemporary dance around this story, imbuing it with the emotional turbulence of Fareeha’s teenage years, from the loss of her mother to the breakthrough she had in accepting Reinhardt’s love during her high school years. It was powerful, raw, and beautiful, and Gabriel knew he had outdone himself on the choreography.

They had about one hour left for their third day of practice when Amélie appeared, looking a bit worried. “It’s Jack,” she said, biting her lip. “I think he wants to talk about his imprisonment. But he asked if he could do it talking to you.”

“Me?” Gabriel repeated.

Amélie rolled her eyes. “Have you become an anime schoolgirl? ‘Me, senpai?’” she mocked. “Yes, you. The interviewers are rolling with it if you’ll agree. I can work with Fareeha on her form.”

Gabriel looked to Fareeha, who shrugged and nodded. He headed down to the interview room, a little apprehensive at the prospect of finding Jack distraught, only to discover the soldier talking amiably with Carson about having gone to pick Gabriel up the week before from the fabric store. They glanced over at him when he entered, and Jack kept rolling with the story.

“And he’s out there on the bench looking like a kicked puppy, too proud to take his crutches and too injured to get himself up—”

“Okay, Morrison,” Gabriel interrupted, hands on hips, “that is _not_ what happened—” 

“I am pretty sure that that is exactly what happened, Gabriel.”

“I was not pouting like a kicked puppy, I was on Facebook. And I just didn’t think I’d need the crutches for a trip to JoAnn’s.”

Jack rolled his eyes and turned back to Carson, who was smirking as he flicked his gaze back and forth between the two men. “ _Anyway_ , it was terribly pathetic, the way he just sat there like a baby bird that can’t fly yet when I pulled up—” 

“Okay, you know what? I did not come down here to listen to this slander, you jackass,” Gabriel huffed, fighting back a smile as Jack grinned innocently at him. “Amélie made it sound like you were having a fuckin’ crisis in here, and it’s just you making up lies about me.”

Jack’s grin turned a little sly. “Aw, did you rush here to be my knight in shining armor?” He looked back to Carson. “He called me that, you know.”

“I—” Gabriel cut off, realizing he would never get ahead of this, and scowled as Jack and Carson laughed at him. “Okay, very funny. Was that all, or should I go now?”

“No, don’t—don’t go,” Jack said quickly, his smile slipping. That was when Gabriel noticed the bounce to his knee, the way his fingers were twisting some fringe on the couch’s throw pillows compulsively. He was nervous, using the humor and teasing to cover up his dread at talking about something that upset him.

“Okay,” Gabriel said, sitting down next to him and raising an eyebrow. “What do you want me to do?”

Carson stepped in. “Normally I do the interviews, but Jack and I got to thinking that it might be easier for him to tell the story he wants to tell to a friend. Someone he trusts. He suggested you. All you have to do is listen and ask questions just like you would if we weren’t filming it.”

Gabe frowned at Jack. “Are you sure you want to do this in front of cameras?”

Jack shrugged. “Yeah. I want to. People know my face and think of me as this big hero, but… I want them to know it wasn’t… it isn’t that simple.”

Gabriel nodded. “Why now?” he asked, getting an approving nod from Carson.

Jack struggled to find the words to start, abandoning a few attempts at starting before rubbing a hand over his face and trying again, eyes locked on the pen cap he was now fiddling with. “Look, it’s not easy for me… to remember. I don’t actually remember everything about the time I was captive,” he said. “And it sucks, because part of me wants to remember, and part of me is just….”

“Scared?” Gabriel asked quietly.

Jack’s eyes snapped up to Gabe’s, then looked back down at the pen camp. “Yeah, scared, I guess.”

“Why do you want to remember, then? Why not just let it stay forgotten?”

Jack took a deep breath. “You remember the earplugs I used at the music festival?” Gabe nodded. “So. I have post traumatic stress. And things like fireworks trigger that stress and put my body into fight or flight mode, you know, just… I become completely and immediately sure that my survival depends on me reacting in drastic ways to those stimuli. I hear what sounds like an explosion or gunfire, and it feels the same as being back on the battlefield.”

He stopped to take a sip of water. “But the thing is,” he continued, rolling the water cup between his hands, “I don’t really know exactly what triggers me. Some things, like the fireworks, are pretty common among veterans. But… for example, a few months ago, someone gave me beef jerky and I had a full-on panic attack. My body reacted to the taste of beef jerky like it reacted to the sound of fireworks. I don’t really know why, though I’m sure I could make an educated guess. But that’s not the point.”

He paused again, clearly becoming distressed as he worked himself up to saying the main point that he was circling. “I could have… _dozens_ more triggers that I don’t know about,” he said, his grip on the water glass becoming dangerously tight. “I’m constantly afraid that someone will say something or do something and I’ll react like they’re….” He broke off, his breath coming in sharply.

Gabriel reached over, gently putting his own hand on the glass over Jack’s. Jack looked up, surprised at the touch, then down at the cup as if he had forgotten he was holding it. Slowly he relaxed his grip on the glass and let Gabriel take it and set it back down on the table.

“I have to remember,” Jack continued, blue eyes intently seeking understanding from Gabriel, “because I’m dangerous to the people around me if I don’t know what triggers my post traumatic stress. What if I hurt someone, Gabe? What if I hurt you, or, or Amélie?” Without anything to fidget with, his hands made their way into his hair, gripping it tightly as he related this fear.

“Hey, hey,” Gabe said soothingly, again coaxing his hands away from the target of their anxious grip, reminded of Jack doing something very similar for him just days ago. He repeated Jack’s gesture from that day at his apartment, when the soldier had held his hand and rubbed his thumb on the back of it comfortingly. “It’s okay, Jack. You’re safe right now, we all are.”

Gabriel became vaguely aware of some movement from behind them, and glanced over to see that Carson and the camera crew were quietly exiting the room. Carson caught Gabe’s eye and shrugged, looking sympathetic as he waited for the last of the camera operators to exit before slipping out himself.

Turning his attention back to Jack, Gabriel squeezed his hand. “Hey, Jackie. Talk to me.”

“Jackie,” the other man repeated with a huffed laugh. “It’s been a long time since someone called me that.”

“Well, get used to it, _cariño_. I like it.”

“What does that mean, _cariño_?”

“Uh… it’s like… a term of endearment, like honey or darling, I guess,” Gabriel said, cheeks heating.

“Oh.” Jack was quiet for a minute, during which Gabriel agonized over whether or not it was weird to admit he was calling Jack “honey” in Spanish. But when Jack spoke again, it had nothing to do with terms of endearment. “I guess the cameras didn’t quite get what they were after,” he sighed.

“You don’t have to tell some harrowing story from your time in captivity to win people over,” Gabriel replied. “What you said today was raw and from the heart, you know? Maybe you don’t need to tell the whole country about what happened, maybe you just need to tell _someone_.”

“Yeah? Someone, like who? You?”

Gabriel gave him a flat look. “Someone, like a therapist, and you know it.”

“I have a therapist,” Jack answered. “She wants me to open up to my friends and family.”

“Okay, then sure. Me, if you want. Start with something small.” 

“Okay.” Gabe was still holding Jack’s hand, but now Jack twisted the hand in his grip and held tightly. It seemed to be an unconscious gesture, as mindless as it was when he was strangling the water glass earlier. “One thing I remember very clearly was the cell they kept me in. It was pretty small, just long enough for me to lie down without having to curl up, and about half as wide. It was underground, just dug into the dirt and clay. I remember my hands bleeding under my nails because I tried to dig my way out.”

“Ouch,” Gabriel said, wincing sympathetically. “That sounds painful.”

Jack chuckled humorlessly. “Honestly I don’t remember if it was. I think I was just in a lot of pain in general, so that didn’t stand out as worthy of note. The worst was the pain from how hungry I was, and thirsty. My head was constantly pounding and my stomach felt like it was on fire most of the time.”

“That’s awful,” Gabriel murmured, trying to be attentive and sympathetic, but also feeling a bit sick to his stomach and inordinately angry.

“It’s strange, after I came back to the States, the first thing I noticed about the post traumatic stress was related to food. I couldn’t go anywhere without a water bottle, but I never drank from it if there were other sources of water. It was like… emergency water. One time my brother drank from it and I lost my mind, yelled at him like he’d killed my firstborn.”

“Wow,” Gabe said.

“Yeah, that’s what got me to take my therapist seriously,” he said with a wry smile. “Of all the things.”

They sat together silently for a minute, hands linked, thoughts distant, until Jack stood and pulled Gabriel to his feet after him. “Come on, it’s past time to go. Can I buy you dinner? Least I can do for making you put up with all of this.”

“That’s really not necessary,” Gabriel started, but Jack rolled his eyes.

“Gabe, I _know_. I don’t only do things that are ‘necessary,’ okay? I want to.”

“Uh. Okay. Sorry. Sure. Let’s, uh. Let’s have dinner.”

Gabriel texted Amélie to let her know he wouldn’t need a ride home and then collected his stuff from his locker before stopping off in the bathroom to change out of his dance gear. Jack was changing, too, so Gabriel took a minute to check in with Fareeha and make sure the training with Amélie had gone well. Apparently, it had, and now Fareeha, Amélie, and Angela were out for drinks.

Jack was in the mood for pizza, and Gabriel wasn’t complaining, so they ordered from Gabe’s favorite place and got back to Jack’s condo at the same time as the pizza arrived. They paid the delivery kid and took their meal upstairs.

Gabriel had never been to Jack’s temporary home in the studio-provided condos. It was basically the same as Fareeha’s, furnished slightly differently but laid out the same: an entry hallway that led to the main room, separated from the kitchen by a counter with barstools. A dining table and chairs in the first part of the open space of the main room, while the second part sported a nice modern rug, couch, coffee table, and TV. To the side were two bedrooms that shared a bathroom in the middle. One bedroom was where Jack (apparently) slept, and the other looked to have a desk and some bookshelves.

“Living the Hollywood dream, huh?” Gabe said, having finished poking around and returned to the kitchen to retrieve his plate of pizza that Jack had set out for him while he had snooped.

“Can’t complain,” Jack said, lifting his slice of pizza high to dangle its end into his mouth. Gabriel forgot to eat, distracted by the show. Noticing the attention, Jack smirked and licked some sauce off the corner of his mouth. “How’s the pizza?” he asked dryly.

Gabriel cleared his throat and looked away, hastily snatching up his first slice and taking a more dignified, two-hand approach.

They chatted about how the contemporary dances were going before the topic of conversation wandered away and eventually circled back to the interview.

“I can’t believe I said all that without really saying anything about the actual time I was in captivity,” Jack said, chuckling as he reclined back with a beer on the couch, propping his feet up on the table.

“It’s not like it’s going to just suddenly be easy to talk about,” Gabriel pointed out, crossing his legs under him as he settled on the other side of the couch. “Give yourself some time.”

“Yeah,” Jack agreed, and reached for the remote. “New episode of Bachelorette tonight. We watching?”

“Hell yeah.”

Three quarters of the way through the episode and Jack was snoring. Gabriel rolled his eyes but let the man sleep, even if it was a little annoying that he was missing Melissa’s most awkward date yet with Bryson. When the episode finished, Gabriel stood and gathered the various dishes and beer bottles from the coffee table to take to the kitchen.

One of the beer bottles slipped from his grip once he was at the kitchen counter, clanking loudly into the sink. It didn’t break, thankfully, so Gabriel righted it and went about his business cleaning up dishes. From the other room he heard the bathroom door close, and felt a bit guilty that the dropped bottle had probably woken Jack.

Gabriel stacked the dishes in the drying rack and headed back to the main room, when a loud thump and quiet cry from the bathroom caught his attention. He frowned in the direction of the restroom and wondered if he should check and make sure Jack was okay, when the door that opened into Jack’s bedroom banged open and he heard the man scrambling.

Gabe poked his head into the bedroom to see Jack almost take the door off its hinges, shoving it away from himself so hard. Of course the door swung back and the ex-soldier grunted in frustration, raising his hand to shove it again.

“Jack! Whoa! Hold up, it’s just a door, man.”

Jack looked around at him, eyes frantic, then surprised Gabriel by throwing his arms around him and burying his head in his shoulder.

After a minute of just standing there, unsure what to do, Gabriel gently put his arms around Jack, too. “What happened, _cariño_?”

“Small space,” Jack mumbled into Gabe’s shoulder.

“The bathroom?”

Jack grunted an affirmative.

“Okay, but you’ve been in your own bathroom before. Surely you don’t react this way every time.”

“Woke up bad,” Jack answered, still talking into Gabriel’s shirt.

“Because I dropped that bottle?” the dancer asked.

“You did?” Jack moved back, rubbing at his eyes. Gabriel resisted the urge to reach out and pull him back. “It might have woken me, I dunno. But I think I was dreaming about that cell they held me in. I was thinking about it all day.”

Gabriel frowned. “Jack,” he started, half reaching a hand out helplessly.

But the soldier shook his head, ducking away from the reaching hand. “Never mind, I can’t do anything about it now.” He ran a shaking hand through his hair, shivering as though it were the middle of winter. “Shit, I’m sorry, Gabriel. I’m a mess.”

“No need to apologize,” Gabe said quickly, then grabbed a fuzzy blanket off of Jack’s bed and wrapped it around his shoulders, guiding him back to the couch. Wrapped in the blanket and curled up on the couch, Jack looked almost… small. “I’ll get you some water, okay? You stay there.”

He went to the kitchen and, remembering Jack almost shattering the glass water cup earlier in the day, wisely picked a plastic cup from the cupboard. He returned to the couch and settled down next to Jack, handing him the water.

“Thanks,” Jack said quietly, taking a sip. “I didn’t mean for our evening to end this way.”

Rolling his eyes, Gabriel said, “Nobody means for panic attacks to happen, Jackie. It’s not a big deal.”

“I… it’s… will you stay?”

Gabriel looked up, eyes wide, and his heart melted as he took in the sight of the soldier’s pale, desperate face. He was quite evidently terrified of having asked this of Gabriel, his expression apprehensive and a bit self-loathing.

 _Oh God,_ Gabriel thought. _I am fucked._

“Of course I will,” he said, and the tenderness in his voice surprised him. “What do you need from me?”

“Just… stay,” Jack said quietly, leaning back and plopping his legs across Gabriel’s lap. “I don’t want to be alone.”

 _Me, neither,_ Gabriel thought as he rested his arms across the soldier’s shins.

* * *

“If I had known you were going to dance like that,” Amélie said as they made their way back to the stage to await the final results of audience voting, “I would never have helped Fareeha get her form right.”

“Oh sure, take all the credit,” Gabriel joked, exceedingly pleased with his and Fareeha’s performance that night.

The dance had gone better than anyone had expected. He had had a good feeling from the beginning about the week’s choreography, knowing he’d outdone himself. But on top of that, Fareeha seemed to be charged up that night, a grace and emotionality to her dancing that Gabriel had never seen before coming out during the poignant dance. He had responded to the way his partner had poured herself into the dance and gave it everything he had, letting his pent-up feelings for Jack flow out of him.

As soon as the song ended, Fareeha had rushed from the stage to throw her arms around her godfather, who had been flown in from San Francisco for the episode. The audience had clapped and clapped, and when she rejoined Gabriel on stage, they eagerly turned to the judges. The first score was revealed as a 10… then the second… then the third.

The audience went wild. Fareeha threw her arms around Gabriel and he spun her around, maybe even weeping a tear or two of his own as he processed the perfect score. 10-10-10, not even Hana Song and Simon Antonoff had managed that yet this season. After such a rough two weeks, the score was both relieving and refreshing.

Next week, they could ride this high straight through and into the final round. Keep working hard, performing well, and there was no way they’d lose now.

The gasps from the audience cued Gabriel to look back up at the scoreboard to see the results of the voting. At first he didn’t even see his and Fareeha’s name. Confused, he looked again, closer. There they were, sitting right at the bottom. Last place from the audience vote. 

“What?” he said.

“Was there a mistake?” Fareeha asked him, looking crushed.

He looked to Tina, the host, who looked offstage in confusion to the stage manager. Then Tina was approaching them, face sympathetic. Gabriel stared at her. Fareeha stared at him. The audience was restlessly murmuring.

“Fareeha, Gabriel,” Tina said, “I’m sorry but… you’ve been voted out of the competition.”

The audience erupted in confusion. Gabriel barely noticed. Everything moved too fast, in a blur. His mind kept short circuiting when he tried to understand the vote, seeking answers from his friends, but Fareeha, Tina, Amélie, and Jack looked just as shocked and uncertain as he felt.

They were ushered offstage to do their exit interviews. He managed to stumble through a somewhat gracious statement about the fickle nature of competition and how it was disappointing but there were many deserving dancers still in the running. Fareeha wiped away tears and struggled through a similar point, saying she wished it had gone differently, and finally the cameras were out of their faces and they were backstage together, staring out at the audience for the last time, wondering how they could possibly have lost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh shit you thought... you thought everything was okay?
> 
> :O NOW WHAT?
> 
> Comments? Questions? Concerns? Favorite bits? I love reading everything you have to say! Kudos are so, so appreciated! Thanks everyone.


	8. Salsa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this is as entertaining to read as it was to write. Enjoy! Some! Fluff!

# Salsa

The first two days after getting knocked out of the competition, Gabriel spent his newfound free time combing Twitter for answers. The best he could put together was that people just straight up hated him for “abandoning” Fareeha after their bad performance at the music festival. People were accusing him of faking his injury because he didn’t want to keep dancing with her. Even their perfect score managed to be tarnished by accusations that the judges were inflating the results for the sake of the drama of the TV show, since they had scored badly the week before. 

Gabriel had rather thought that his appearance in Jack’s interview would gain him some sympathy points, but most people seemed to think he was more interested in Jack than Fareeha and the competition. Without the context of knowing that he had been slowly becoming a major part of Jack’s support network in LA, the audience had decided for themselves that Gabriel was chasing a hot lay instead of remaining focused on his partner and their dances. This was made especially frustrating by the fact that Gabriel _wished_ Jack were chaseable, but had accepted that they would only ever be friends (a fate he was not mad about, per se, just… heartsore).

 _so i guess they wanted me to be a worse friend and a worse dancer,_ he texted Amélie sourly as he, once again, went over the results of his investigation with her.

 _Ah, Gabriel,_ she sent back, _we already knew American voters cannot be trusted to pick the best person, morally or professionally._

Fareeha was agonizing over whether or not to move back to San Francisco and resume her cooking show, which was on hiatus during the competition. She technically could take the rest of the time she had slated for the competition off, and commit to doing a dance with Gabriel in the upcoming retrospective episode. Yet she was unsure, the sting of the loss being very fresh; at least getting back to the cooking show would give her a renewed sense of daily fulfillment. In the meantime, she and Angela were spending as much time as they could together, and had invited Gabriel to join them, but he had wanted neither to be a third wheel on their dates nor to have to watch them be in love. It made him think of Jack.

As if he wasn’t doing enough of that already.

Besides obsessing over how he and Fareeha could possibly have been eliminated, he spent the rest of his time obsessing over Jack Morrison. Jack, who had kissed his cheek weeks ago. Jack, who had given up his time to tend to Gabriel’s injuries. Jack, who in his moments of weakness had reached out to Gabriel for comfort and company, asked him to stay the night at his place. 

Jack, Jack, Jack.

Fuck.

Fuck Jack.

“Okay, Reyes,” he told himself as the thought process got too circle-jerky to tolerate. “Do something with your life today.”

So on the third day since getting knocked out, while Amélie (whom he had dropped off in the morning so he could have the car) and Jack (Jack, Jack) were practicing _his_ favorite dance, he grabbed his swimsuit and headed to the gym. He used to run, but after his knee injuries, he had taken up swimming for additional exercise since it was easier on his joints. On the way to the gym he remembered that the production studio for _Dance Stars_ had a pool that was less crowded than the gym’s pool, and figured Winston probably wouldn’t care if he used the pool even though he’d been eliminated.

(He was definitely not going just because he missed opportunities to run into Jack on accident.)

Which was how he found himself at the studio again. He made his way to the pool and nobody questioned him as he swam his laps, burning off some of his frustrated energy in the water. After he had showered in the locker room, he figured it wouldn’t hurt to see how Sombra was doing, maybe check to see if she had a minute at her lunch break to talk to him about the flamenco dress.

(He was definitely not stalling so that he could possibly bump into Jack at lunch.)

Wandering down the hall of dance studios, he peeked into each room as he went. Hana Song was twirling here, Lena arguing with Grant here, and ah—Amélie and Jack. What a surprise.

He poked his head in on them, waving. “Uh, hey,” he said, shuffling awkwardly. “How’s it going?”

Amélie raised an eyebrow at him, crossing her arms. “Back so soon?” she asked.

“Just wanted to check in on my best friend,” he answered with forced chipperness, feeling stupid as soon as the words left his mouth. “So. Uh. How… how are you?”

She smirked. “I am fine, Gabriel, thank you. How are you?”

“Uh. Fine, I guess. I’m going to see if Sombra wants to talk about her dress at lunch,” he volunteered, feeling immense pressure to give a better reason for being there.

Jack perked up at this. “How’s it coming? Can I see it soon?”

Gabriel’s heart fluttered. “Yeah, of course! It’s starting to have some shape, but the skirt is a pretty difficult pattern to sew.”

“As wholesome as this is,” Amélie drawled, “Jack and I were in the middle of practicing.”

“Right, yeah, of course. Sorry. I’ll, uh, see you later, I guess.”

“You are still planning to pick me up, right?” she confirmed, giving him a somewhat confused look.

“Oh, yeah. Yeah, of course.”

She actually laughed a little at him, wiggling her fingers in farewell as she turned her attention back to Jack. Gabriel glanced over his shoulder as he left just in time to see her shake her head and grab him by the hips to force him to move the way she wanted. He chuckled a little. Apparently salsa week was reviving Jack’s hip problems.

Ah, never before had he wished so badly to be Amélie.

He skulked around while he waited for the lunch break, greeting the camera crews and various staff members. Angela was on set today for her standard medical rounds and gave him a knowing smile before heading off to see Hana and Simon. 

At lunch he found Sombra and asked for her input on the dress, taking an extra couple of measurements to make sure he’d get the structure of the bodice correct. Winston came down to talk to the dancers and saw him there, and politely invited him to eat even though he technically was no longer accounted for in catering.

(He ate with Jack and Amélie.)

* * *

The next day, Gabriel was pacing around his apartment trying to find something to do. He’d been sewing a lot and was bored. He wanted to dance. He wanted to be in the competition still. He wanted to tweet angry tweets at fans of the show for being assholes and voting them off despite their, quite frankly, amazing performance. 

(He wanted to grab Jack Morrison’s filthy hot face and kiss it silly.)

(He didn’t want to lurk at the studio again today, but his resolve was caving.)

Fareeha texted him just then, and he was immensely relieved to see an invitation to lunch. She had decided to extend her stay for another week or two and wanted to spend some time with him while Angela was busy at work. He took an Uber to the restaurant and they spent the afternoon day-drinking and commiserating about how shitty the audience voters were.

It was just about four o’clock when they drunkenly stumbled their way out of the restaurant and started to walk toward Fareeha’s condo, which was not far from where they had met for lunch.

“No, stop!” Fareeha said as they were just about to enter the condo. “Wait, Gabriel. Wait. This is... this is utter bullshit.”

“Yeah, I know,” he agreed, nodding furiously. “We’ve already established that.”

“But I mean, do they even _know_ how much bullshit it is?”

His nod slowed down to a more thoughtful pace. “I see what you mean,” he mused.

She grabbed his hand and hauled him to the curb, fumbling with her phone to call an Uber. “The audience is shit,” she declared as she placed the pick-up location. “You were just trying to help your boo—” 

Gabriel couldn’t help himself as he started to laugh. He was always a giggly drunk. “He’s not—Fareeha, he’s not my boo.”

She gave him a deadpan look, rolled her eyes mightily, and said, “You were just trying to help _your boo_ —” here she paused and gave him a look daring him to interrupt again, but he was laughing too hard, so she continued, still righteously angry. “And then you fucking _injured_ yourself trying to make it up to everyone, and they voted us off!” She gave him an incredulous look as though she were just truly starting to understand the extent of how absurd it was. “I mean, come on!”

“Where are we going?” he asked, still fighting back giggles as they waved their driver over.

“To make sure Winston knows that it’s bullshit,” Fareeha said, climbing into the backseat.

“Hey, aren’t you two that dance couple from that TV show?” the driver said as Gabriel shut the door.

“Not anymore,” Gabriel choked out, still laughing helplessly.

“Yes, but we have very important business and we are in a hurry,” Fareeha said over his giggles, trying not to sound drunk.

“Where to, then?” the driver asked.

“To get justice,” Fareeha declared through gritted teeth. “But first, more liquid courage.”

* * *

They had each had the equivalent of a few more shots out of the hastily procured whiskey bottle by the time they rolled up to studio. The driver, their new best friend Mike, had been cool with it because they had bought him a bottle, too, after making him promise not to drink and drive. It was probably still illegal to have their open container in the car, but Gabriel and Fareeha shared an “if you don’t get caught, it doesn’t count” approach to this kind of crime, and Mike was chill about it (they had checked multiple times, not wanting to cause him distress, until it was clear their repeated questioning about it was by far the more obnoxious behavior to him).

They promised to text Mike updates about how their crusade for justice went, and then stormed the building, Fareeha clutching the whiskey bottle in its crumpled brown paper bag.

Fareeha led Gabriel down the hall and straight to the interview room. She barged in, interrupting the end of Amélie and Jack’s brief day-end interview, and leveled an accusing finger at the camera, paper bag of whiskey still clutched in the other hand. Gabriel stood next to her, arms crossed, glowering.

“Hey,” Fareeha declaimed, “you fuckers voted us off for no reason. You thought he abandoned me?” She shook her head to indicate her incredulity. “He was just trying to help his boo!”

“Fareeha, he’s not—oh my god.” Gabriel couldn’t help it. He busted out laughing again, ruining the tough guy image he’d been going for. Oh well. 

Amélie and Jack watched in horror as Carson and the camera crew, stifling their own laughs, gave Fareeha the finger roll to indicate she should keep going. And she did.

“I am a tough motherfucker,” she said, glaring at the camera, “I don’t need you assholes to use your votes to punish my friend, my fucking _friend_ , for ‘abandoning’ me. I was fine by myself on that stage! And Gabriel was just trying to help Jack, you idiots. He’s a good friend and a good dancer, and I hope you all feel ashamed of yourselves.”

“Okay,” Amélie said, taking Fareeha by the shoulders and steering her away from the camera as Gabe continued to giggle at his ex-dance-partner’s antics. “That’s enough of that. Jack, some help?”

The blonde got to his feet with a huge grin on his face and took Fareeha into his grip as Amélie foisted her off so that she could fetch Gabriel.

“Don’t take their side, Jack!” Fareeha hollered as he dragged her from the interview room, shaking her fist at the camera. “You know the truth! Justice for Gabriel!”

Amélie shoved Gabriel forward, muttering to herself in French. As she pushed him into the hallway to join Jack and Fareeha, she turned on Carson. “If you want to live, you will delete that footage,” she spat, slamming the door closed before anyone could respond.

“What were you thinking?” Amélie demanded, rounding on Gabriel, fists planted on her hips.

“Don’t look at me,” he said, eyes wide with innocent shock at her tone. “It was Fareeha’s idea.”

Jack snorted laughter, trying hard to keep it under control as Amélie gave him a disgusted look. “I can’t believe this,” she muttered, rolling her eyes. “You might never be invited back to the show, Gabriel!”

“Are you kidding?” Jack intervened, a grin splitting his face. “This is the most dramatic thing to happen to this show since that politician had a breakdown on camera in season three! Winston will love it.”

Amélie groaned, shaking her head. “Take her home, Jack. I will get Gabriel home.” She turned to leave, then whirled back as though she had just remembered something. “And give me that,” she said, snatching the whiskey bottle from Fareeha, who started chanting “Justice for Gabe! Justice for Gabe!”

Gabriel joined in, and soon enough Jack did, too. Despite Amélie’s best efforts, the three of them took their chant down the hall, Jack steadying his drunk friends with an arm around each of their waists as they pumped their fists and hollered. Heads poked out of dance studios and first Hana, then Lena, her dance partner, and Sombra had joined the chanting procession to Winston’s office. 

Amélie trailed behind, massaging her temples. Angela fell into step with her eventually, asking for a recap and laughing as Amélie explained the situation.

Once they got to Winston’s office, though, there wasn’t much to be said. He met them with a bemused expression, apologized, and agreed that he wished they had gotten better results. This left the impromptu protest with no wind in its sails, having no plan beyond demanding Winston’s attention, and they milled about for a minute before Hana said, “So, are we going to a bar, or what?”

Amid the cheers, Lena started the group on a rousing chorus of “Do You Hear the People Sing” from _Les Misérables_.

Angela grabbed the whiskey from Amélie and took a long pull. “If you can't beat them, join them,” she said cheerfully, handing the bottle back and picking up with, “Will you give all you can give so that a banner may advance?”

* * *

“I’m jus’ saying,” Gabriel slurred loudly into Jack’s ear over the din of the bar, “that it’s cool, man, you know? Gay guys and straight guys can totally jus’ be friends. It doesn’t have to be a fuckin’ thing.” He paused, then laughed. “A fucking thing. Get it, Jack?”

Jack, who was nursing his second old fashioned and considerably more sober than Gabriel, chuckled a little. “I get it, Gabriel.”

“So don’ let all their ‘he’s your boo’ nonsense get to you,” Gabriel continued, finding it very important to stress this point to the other man. “Okay, Jackie? It’s jus’, it’s like, we can be friends, okay? A gay guy and a straight guy can be friends.”

“I get it, Gabe!” Jack repeated, shaking his head and laughing a little harder. “But tell me, please, who in this scenario is the ‘straight guy?’”

Gabe rolled his eyes. “Don’ joke with me, Morrison,” he said, finding Jack’s last name to be exceedingly pleasing to say, all soft sounds and sonorous vowels. “If you weren’t straight as a fuckin’ arrow, I’d have jammed my tongue down your throat ages ago.”

Jack laughed again, blushing a little, then turned to look Gabriel dead in the eyes. He took one of Gabe’s hands in his own, smiling. “I am going to tell you two very important things, okay, Gabriel? And I need you to really pay attention. They’re going to sound out of order, but that’s on purpose, okay? Are you ready?”

Gabriel nodded, doing his best to focus on Jack’s face as it swam in his vision.

“Okay. The first thing is this: after I tell you the second thing, you are not—I repeat, _not_ , for any reason, to stick your tongue down my throat right now. Maybe another time. But not right now. Okay?”

Gabriel, slow on the uptake through his whiskey-induced haze, gave Jack a hurt look. “I already tol’ you I wouldn’ do that.”

“Gabe, what are you not to do, for any reason, after I tell you the second thing?”

“Stick my tongue down your throat. Don’ patronize me, jackass.” (Later, when Jack reminded him about the details of this conversation, Gabriel would shame-facedly admit that it was a good thing Jack had, in fact, been patronizing about this, given how fuzzy he was from drinking.)

“Fine. Here’s the second thing, you ready?” Gabriel nodded again. Jack leaned forward, so close to Gabriel’s ear that his lips brushed it as he whispered, “I’m not straight, you asshole.”

Jack sat back, shaking with silent laughter as he watched Gabriel process this information.

“You’re not?”

“No.”

“But I thought—” 

“No, you _assumed_.”

“Oh, shit,” Gabriel said, getting to his feet suddenly, immediately almost losing his balance. He steadied himself (Jack steadied him), then looked around, spotted Amélie across the bar, and yelled, “Hey, Amé! Jack’s gay, too!”

Throughout the bar, a hush fell as everyone paused and glanced their way, then Amélie said, “Cool,” and Lena said, “Cheers, love!” and the bar erupted into applause and whistles.

Jack lifted his glass in salute, face red and grinning helplessly, then turned his attention back to Gabriel, who at least had the presence of mind to look thoroughly mortified that he had just outed Jack to the entire cast of _Dance Stars_ , Mike the Uber driver (whom Fareeha had invited), and some strangers.

“I’m so sorry,” Gabriel whispered, hand over his mouth in horror.

“I was never in the closet, Gabe. Everyone just assumed wrong.”

“I still shouldn’t have done that,” he said.

Jack smiled slyly, leaned in closer. “It’s just as well,” he purred through the din of the bar noise. “It’ll be less of a shock for everyone when you’re sober and I let you take me to dinner.”

“I’m sober,” Gabe lied immediately.

Jack chuckled, threw back the rest of his old fashioned and set the glass on the bar, then stood and gathered his things to leave. He leaned in and brushed the lightest kiss across Gabe’s cheek. “See you later,” he murmured, and left the bar.

* * *

Lena and Grant ended up going home that week, while Jack and Amélie tied with Hana and Simon for top marks. Gabe watched from home, unable to face the shame that would come with seeing his friends in person for the first time since he and Fareeha had stormed the bastille (the footage of which had not been shared). They announced on the show that night that the finale of the series would be the next competition episode, as it was down to just three pairs of contestants: Amélie and Jack, Hana and Simon, and Sombra and her partner Leo. The finale would occur in two weeks, so the next week would be a retrospective episode looking back on all the best dances and bringing in some of the eliminated dancers for special performances.

In the meantime, the three pairs still in the contest would have ten days to prepare two dances, one freestyle and one of any genre, celebrity’s choice. Before those ten days, however, would be a four day extended weekend vacation for the contestants, to go home to see their families or take some time to rest and relax.

Not long after the show ended, his phone dinged. He checked it to discover a group text from Fareeha, sent to him, Amélie, Angela, Jack, Sombra, Lena, Emily, and Hana.

In all caps, Fareeha had written: _ALREADY BOOKED THE BEACH HOUSE. PACK YOUR SWIMSUITS, WE LEAVE IN THE MORNING._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I told my best friend (SHOUT OUT) about this fic she was like "you're writing a sports anime" and then I told her about the plan for a beach chapter and she was like "HOT SPRINGS EPISODE YOU REALLY ARE WRITING A SPORTS ANIME." Well, tune in next time for the hot springs episode.
> 
> By the way, the fic is 98% written now! Wrapping up writing the final chapter. I'm still abroad but all that time I said I'd be working is actually just fic writing time (SURPRISED? me neither), so... almost done! Exciting things coming soon!
> 
> As always, your comments and kudos bring me so much joy! Thanks for reading, commenting, and liking. It's so encouraging as a content creator, as many of you know.


	9. Retrospective

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on a train and then three flights and then a bus for the next day or so, so have a chapter.

# Retrospective

At seven in the morning Amélie and Gabriel loaded their bags into her car, picked up Lena and Emily, and headed to the beach house that Fareeha had rented for them. They got there by nine, and within the hour, they had coolers packed, swimsuits donned, and totes filled with snacks, towels, sunscreen, and various beach toys. They left a note for the next group to arrive (Fareeha and Angela had gotten there just before them, but the others had left an hour after Amélie’s carload) and headed to the ocean.

Gabriel, who had been sitting up front navigating while Amélie drove and therefore unable to nap in the car, immediately fell asleep after making sure he was thoroughly covered in sunscreen. 

When he woke up, it was just past noon. He was greeted by the smell of grilling meat and vegetables, and upon looking around, saw Jack and Fareeha standing by the grill in what appeared to be a heated argument, the expressive gesturing evidence enough of disagreement even though he could not discern the topic from this distance.

Gabriel groaned and turned his head the other way to find himself face to face with Amélie.

“Hello,” she said, smiling evilly at the way he jumped back from the surprise of her face being right next to his.

“Fuck you,” he grumbled, rubbing at his eyes.

Her smile widened. “No thank you,” she said, and he rolled his eyes. “But,” she cut in as he opened his mouth to snark some more, “maybe fuck _him_?” She jutted her chin toward Jack.

Gabriel groaned again, letting his head drop back down onto his towel. “I made such an ass of myself at the bar, Amé,” he said. “What am I supposed to say to him?”

“The man as much as told you he wanted you to ask him out when you’re sober,” she said. “So stay sober today and ask him out.” She rose to her knees. “In the meantime, I am going to have lunch.”

Gabriel’s stomach grumbled. He allowed himself one more moment of dread and self-pity before getting to his feet and following Amélie to the grill to investigate lunch options.

“...I’m just saying that if you had the _right_ tongs, it’d be _easier_ ,” Fareeha was saying, gesturing emphatically.

“And _I’m_ saying, it’s perfectly easy with _these_. Don’t fix what ain’t broke,” Jack answered, snapping his apparently suboptimal tongs in front of her face a few times for emphasis.

“Oh my god,” Gabe interrupted as he rounded the grill, causing Jack, Fareeha, and their small but amused audience to look at him. “What the fuck are you wearing?”

Laughter broke out as the group immediately said things like, “See?” and “Told you!” to Jack, who placed his hands on his hips and scowled at Gabe. The sight of him making a grumpy face while wearing a Hawaiian shirt, khaki shorts, socks, sandals, and the most absurd utility apron Gabriel had ever seen was enough to make Gabe’s apprehension at having to talk to him flee. He roared with laughter.

“You look like,” he started, but had to stop as another fit of laughter overtook him. “You look like the most suburban dad in all of America,” he gasped out between laughs, and everyone else was cracking up now too. Except Jack.

And Amélie. She raised one eyebrow at the display, then cleared her throat loudly, held out her plate, and said, “Well, I’d like to eat sometime today.”

“Thank you,” Jack said primly, turning his back to his laughing friends and serving her a generous helping of fajitas.

“No, thank you, _Dad_ ,” she said with a smirk, then flipped her ponytail over her shoulder and sauntered away to eat.

Jack snarked and grumped but fed them all, Gabriel falling into line last to delay the inevitable moment of having to face up to his drunken mistake at the bar. When it was his turn at last, he met Jack’s eyes and couldn’t help the grin that came over his face. God, the man was beautiful, even in a Hawaiian shirt and goddamn utility apron that said “Raise the Steaks.” And he really had a chance with him if he didn’t fuck anything up too badly. His heart swelled with excitement at the prospect.

Jack blinked in surprise at the sight of Gabe just standing there grinning at him, but didn’t stop the smile that grew on his own face in return. “Hey there, sunshine,” he said. “Good nap?”

“Yeah,” Gabe said, handing over his plate and watching Jack pile up meat and veggies on a grilled tortilla for him. “You gonna swim in those shorts, papi?” he asked, still amused by Jack’s outfit.

“Nah. If you’re not skinny dipping, you’re not living,” Jack answered as he returned Gabriel’s plate.

Gabe gaped for a minute, and finally Jack burst out laughing. “I’m kidding. I mean, I’m not, but I also brought swim trunks to change into since I doubt everyone shares my opinion on swimming in the nude.” He winked and served himself a plate of food. “Come eat with me?” he invited. Gabriel nodded, and they made their way to a nearby picnic table covered in their group’s stuff. Everyone else was sitting out on their towels and beach chairs closer to the shoreline.

“Listen, Jack,” Gabe said, taking a deep breath and deciding to just jump into his apology. “I’m sorry I announced to the whole bar that you’re gay, and I’m sorry I assumed things about your sexuality that weren’t true. Both things were really stupid and I was a total ass.”

Jack shrugged. “I don’t really identify as gay, either,” he said.

Gabriel groaned. “Oh my god, I did it twice,” he said. “Fuck me.”

“Maybe later,” Jack said, grinning from ear to ear as Gabe’s face heated up. “Oh, relax, Gabriel. I’m not mad at you. I just… don’t really think about or talk about my sexuality much, to be honest. People always assume I’m into women, and I mean, I _am_. But not exclusively, and not all women. I just… like some people, and the basis is pretty much never what genitalia they do or don’t have.” He paused, rolling up his first fajita. “People always assume one way or the other about it, but I don’t really spend any time thinking about it. I know that’s a privilege, and kinda shitty of me in a way but I seriously just… don’t care.”

“Well,” Gabe said, not meeting his eyes. “I care. It means a lot to me to be careful about assuming things about others, and I completely failed to live up to that standard for myself. So I’m sorry anyway. I didn’t mean to speak for you.”

“You’re completely forgiven,” Jack said firmly.

They took a few minutes to eat then, Gabriel offering his compliments on the food, at which point Jack told him that he had missed the very entertaining attempt by Fareeha to not control the food preparation. The conversation meandered easily after that, and Gabriel found himself becoming increasingly comfortable with talking to Jack again, finally letting go of the guilt he’d been carrying.

Just as things started to get a little flirty between them, Lena was there insisting they come finish out the teams for beach volleyball. Hana had brought her best friend, a Brazilian DJ named Lúcio, who had flown into town to vacation and be there to watch her dance in the finale in two weeks’ time. The teams, then, were Fareeha, Jack, Lena, Amélie, and Hana, against Gabriel, Lúcio, Emily, Angela, and Sombra. 

As it turned out, Fareeha was too formidable an opponent for a 5-on-5 situation, so for the second game they put Amélie on Gabe’s team and played 6-on-4, which evened things out until Angela insisted Gabriel stop tempting fate with his knees and the game ended. Nobody minded because nobody wanted Gabriel to end up on bed rest for another week, but also because they were all itching to get in the water by this point.

Good hearted splash wars and some casual swimming later, Gabriel found his way back to his towel and cracked open a beer. He watched Jack, who had indeed changed into swim trunks, build sandcastles with Hana for a while, the itch to talk to him alone building. When the tide got high enough to ruin their sandcastle, Jack and Hana called it quits, the Korean girl finding her way to her towel to read.

Jack caught Gabe’s eyes, nodded to the beer cooler, and raised an eyebrow. Gabe nodded, and Jack grabbed them each a beer, then came toward the dancer’s spot.

“Wait, don’t sit,” Gabriel said as Jack made moves to do just that. The soldier froze, looking at Gabe questioningly. “Want to go for a walk?”

Understanding lit up Jack’s features and he nodded, offering Gabriel a hand and pulling him effortlessly to his feet. They clinked their beers together and started off down the beach, Gabriel raising a one-finger salute to the wolf-whistle they got from Lena.

For a while they walked in silence, enjoying the sunshine and the sound of the waves on the shore. Gabe felt his hand brush against Jack’s and decided to go for it, linking their pinkies. Jack smiled.

“What are we doing?” Gabriel wondered aloud.

“I was under the impression we were going for a walk,” Jack said, looking his way with a teasing smile.

“Ha, ha,” Gabriel said flatly, earning a grin. “I mean… is this… okay?”

“The beach? I’d say it’s more than okay, it’s beauti—”

“Jack,” Gabe interrupted with an eye roll, “you know what I mean.” To make his point, he tugged his on the soldier’s pinky that was linked with his own.

“Why wouldn’t it be okay?” Jack said, pulling Gabriel to a halt and maneuvering himself so that they were facing each other. “Consenting adults, and all that.”

“I dunno,” Gabe said, fidgeting nervously with the label on his beer bottle. “Is that what this is? We hook up, you finish the competition, and then… that’s it?”

“Well, if the plot of Grease is anything to go by, we’ll end up at the same high school and you’ll have to undergo a total makeover to fit with my coolkid image.”

“Alright, you nerd, I am clearly the Danny of this scenario, first of all,” Gabriel said, but his smirk slipped quickly back to a more serious demeanor. “Second of all… I am trying to actually ask you something important, here.”

Jack pursed his lips to show he was listening. Gabe took a deep breath. “I don’t know if I want a summer fling. I mean, we’re _not_ high schoolers, Jack.”

Jack cocked his head. “I guess I just assumed you were looking for a hook up, what with all the flirting and circling we’ve been doing… I mean, you did say you wanted to stick your tongue down my throat.”

Gabe huffed an embarrassed laugh. “Yeah, and a few weeks ago, maybe that was what I wanted,” he said, trying to find the courage to say what he meant. Jack was looking less and less certain with each word, though, and he knew that he had to go all-in or lose his chance now. “I mean, I still want— it’s not that— fuck. Fuck. Jack, I mean that I think… I think I want… more than that.”

“More, like what?” Jack said, licking his lips.

Gabriel’s stomach twisted. Was that a good question from Jack? He couldn’t tell. “More, like… a relationship.”

Jack’s brow furrowed, the expression unreadable to Gabriel but nevertheless sending his stomach dropping. Shit. Whatever Jack was about to say, it was not going to be what he wanted. He should have just taken the casual lay and been done with it. Surely a beach house hook up and silent, unspoken pining would have been better than how terrible this impending rejection already felt.

“No, no, no,” Jack said, clearly having read some of this turmoil on Gabriel’s face. “Shit, Gabe, don’t— just, let me say this. Okay? I like you so much more than I am comfortable admitting, you know? I like you enough to imagine that kind of future with you, to imagine _any_ future with you. I… what we’ve been growing between us, it’s… well, it feels like it could easily be the first steps to something much bigger.”

Gabriel lifted his eyebrows, expression pained. “But?” he prompted.

With a sigh, the ex-soldier stepped up a little more into Gabe’s space, taking both of his hands and holding them close to his chest, eyes on their interlaced fingers. “But,” he whispered, taking a deep breath, “I’m really fucking terrified.”

“Why?”

Jack hesitated a long moment before answering. “My life is a mess, Gabriel. It may not look like it, from what you’ve seen, but… you’ve only seen this version of me. This best version, Vacation Jack, away from the… the bullshit. And like, think about that. This is the best version and you’re already having to deal with the spillover of my crap: panic attacks because of fireworks, fighting with goddamn _doors_ , for chrissake.”

“I don’t mind,” Gabriel said.

“But I’m telling you that we’ve only scratched the surface to this iceberg, sunshine,” Jack said, voice gaining a little strength, perhaps because he was starting to feel frustrated. “I’ve spent the years since I’ve been out of the army just trying to make my life functional on a very basic level. Like, eat and sleep and bathe, kind of basic, okay? Like, don’t throw myself off a bridge kind of basic. How am I… how am I supposed to ask you to be a part of that?”

“I’m asking to be a part of it,” Gabriel replied, lifting Jack’s chin up so their eyes would meet. “Not you.”

Jack shook his head. “You don’t even know what you’re getting into, though,” he said firmly. “Hell, _I_ don’t even know. So much of my memory of that time is… is just a big blur of bad, you know? Nothing specific, but when I think about it I’m filled with this dread. What if I finally remember, and it changes me? What if I get worse? What if I’m not _me_ anymore?”

“Hey, hey,” Gabe said, stroking Jack’s cheek. “You’re getting carried away. It might be like that, I guess. I don’t know. But it also might not be, okay? It might also be fine.”

Jack’s expression grew pained. “It’s all so confusing to think about for me, Gabriel,” he confessed. “I remember a time before all this, when my thoughts just went from A to B to C like a normal person. And they still do, about a lot of things. But when I think about the time I spent as a prisoner of war, or when I think about being… _close_ to you, or anyone, it’s like… my brain doesn’t just skip a few letters, it goes from B to triangle to seven and lands on a big question mark.”

Gabe gently pulled him into a hug, felt the moment that Jack relaxed into it and took the comfort that was offered. “Okay, cariño. Okay.”

“I’m not saying no, Gabriel. I’m saying… give me some time to think about my answer.”

* * *

When they returned to the stretch of beach where their friends were, Jack disappeared to make a phone call. At dinner he announced that he’d decided to fly home for the next two days before training for the last week of competition started. Everyone mumbled combinations of “we’ll miss you” and “that sounds nice” and the like, then evening activities picked up and Jack joined Lena, Emily, Hana, and Lúcio for board games. Fareeha and Angela escaped to the beach for a nighttime stroll, and Sombra drove into town to pick up some supplies for breakfast.

Amélie cuddled up next to Gabriel on the couch, nestling under his arm and resting her cheek on his shoulder. “So,” she said quietly.

“So,” he agreed.

“Tell me,” she said. He gave her the sparknotes version of their conversation.

“Well, it isn’t a ‘no,’” she said when he’d finished. 

“Did I fuck it up?” he asked. “Should I have just kept my mouth shut and slept with him?”

“No,” she immediately replied. “No. Starting with a lie like that… no, Gabriel, you did the right thing.” He pulled her closer, knowing she was thinking about Gerard, and they sat there like that, contemplating the complicated nature of relationships and emotions, until Lena and Hana convinced everyone it was time for Mario Kart.

* * *

To everyone’s chagrin, the retrospective episode included Fareeha’s drunken condemnation of the audience’s decision to vote them off and some footage of the mini protest that had formed at Winston’s office (Gabriel hadn’t even known the cameras had caught that). After Gabriel and Fareeha danced their short and easy guest performance, Tina asked them about the storming of the studio, and they told her the story with embarrassed smiles. Tina drew out some details from Fareeha about why she had wanted justice for Gabriel, and Fareeha said the nicest things about Gabe, his loyalty to his friends, and his dedication to caring for the people around him.

As they left the stage, his eyes lingered on the empty seat reserved for Jack, who was not in the audience that night since he had gone home to Indiana for a few days. Maybe the audience was right—maybe he had gotten too wrapped up in caring about one particular person and had lost sight of his commitment to Fareeha.

He felt a bit guilty as he thought that, even with this realization, he would not have changed anything about the last few weeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BET YOU THOUGHT THIS WAS GONNA BE A HOOK UP. >.<
> 
> Entertain me on my lengthy, sleepless international travel! Leave a comment to feed my soul and keep me in good spirits. Lol.
> 
> No but actually thanks so much for reading, enjoying, and commenting! And leaving kudos, if you already have or do right now! So, so appreciated.


	10. Finale

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> home again! finale episode already T-T

# Finale

“Why are you asking me to do this?” Gabriel asked, voice pained. “It’s cruel.”

“It’s dance, Gabriel,” Amélie responded, arms folded, frowning at him. They were standing close to each other in the hallway outside Winston’s office, talking quietly for a private moment while Winston and Jack waited inside. “Just a dance with me and Jack.”

“Yeah, and I’m in lo—” he stopped himself, clamping down hard on his own cheek in his effort to stop that word from slipping out. Amélie’s eyebrows climbed and he looked away quickly. “Fuck. No. I can’t put myself through this, okay?”

Amé sighed, knowing perfectly well what he had been about to say. “Just… talk to Jack first, okay? Before you say no.”

He hadn’t talked to Jack yet, not since the other man left for Indiana four days ago. It was the morning of the first day of the last stretch of time given to the remaining contestants to practice their final two dances. Everyone had to do a freestyle dance, and then each celebrity contestant had gotten to choose one final form of dance.

So when Gabriel had gotten a text from Amélie last night asking him to go into the studio with her in the morning, to find that Jack had an… unusual request for this celebrity choice dance, he was working on the assumption that Jack either still had no answer for him, or was putting off the awkwardness of telling him bad news.

“I wanted to talk to _you_ about this,” he growled.

“Because you can’t say no to Jack?” she shot back immediately, and he almost flinched away. “Don’t be a baby, Gabriel. This isn’t about you and your personal drama, it’s about the competition.”

Gabriel blinked, realizing that he had failed to account for Amélie’s own stake in this argument. She wanted to win the competition, so she was trying to make sure Jack got what he wanted and would therefore be most motivated to perform at his best. A “yes” from Gabriel meant Jack would get his preferred option for the celebrity choice, which just so happened to be a three person dance with Gabriel and Amélie. Was it selfish of him to expect her to sideline the desire to win to protect his feelings? Or of her to expect him to ignore his feelings to help her win?

Their eyes met and they both looked uncomfortable. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I… I want this, Gabe.”

And fuck it, he wanted it for her, too. He wanted her and Jack to win, no matter what happened with Jack. Amélie deserved to win, deserved something good in her life. The divorce was finalized now, and she had been keeping things together pretty well, but damn. She was working as hard or harder than the others in the competition _and_ handling a divorce at the same time.

“No, I’m sorry,” he said. “I’ll do it. For you.”

“You shouldn’t say yes just because of me,” she sighed, rubbing at her temple.

“Yes, I should. You’re my best fucking friend, Amélie. I’m gonna help you win this competition. Let’s tell the others.”

Slowly, a smile spread on her lips and her eyes gained a determined glint. She nodded once, and they went back inside Winston’s office.

“Gabe is in,” she said. “Shall we get started? There’s a lot to do.”

* * *

They worked out a schedule right away, dividing their time almost evenly between the two dances. Since the freestyle wouldn’t involve teaching Jack too many new techniques so much as adjusting and freshening some of the other things he had already learned, they weighted the other dance more heavily by a few hours each day.

Jack had never done ballet before, after all.

The best part was that Gabriel could work on the choreography while Jack and Amélie worked on their freestyle dance. After they had sketched out a rough idea of what the dance would be like and picked some music based on Amélie’s suggestion, Gabriel left them to do their freestyle practice and took an empty studio a few doors down for himself, planning the dance. In the afternoon, Amélie and Jack joined him and he showed them some of the plan. Amélie got the idea quickly, and she and Gabe were able to dance enough of it together that Jack could picture the final result reasonably well.

“It’s going to be amazing,” the soldier said appreciatively, beaming at Gabriel, whose heart swelled. “But I’m nervous about the techniques. I’ve never done ballet before.”

“You learned some things already during contemporary week,” Amélie pointed out distractedly, eyes on Gabriel’s notes. “Build on that. Gabe, will you? I want to work on this.” She nodded to the notebook where he had been planning the dance.

“Okay,” he agreed, steeling himself as he turned back to Jack. “Ready to work on some ballet basics, Jackie?”

Jack grinned. “Teach me, Gabriel Reyes.”

“I’m your only hope?” Gabe said, smiling at the reference to the third week of the competition, when Jack had said the same thing about learning swing techniques.

Jack’s grin faltered at the sight of Gabe’s smile, fading into a milder expression with a quality to it that made Gabriel nervous. “Something like that,” he agreed, voice oddly gentle.

Unsure what else to do, Gabriel began the ridiculous task of training Jack in years’ worth of ballet instruction in ten days. With ballroom, it was a little more feasible to take people new to a dance style and teach them a single dance in a few days; they learned the choreography and a bit of technique, not the style, on this show. But ballet… you couldn’t fake that as easily. It was going to have to be very basic for Jack’s contribution to the dance.

Later, the first day of practice was done and they gathered at the lockers. Fareeha had invited everyone to dinner that night, so they met up with Sombra, Hana, Lúcio, and Angela to carpool. Jack immediately got caught up in questions from Hana about Indiana, and shot Gabriel one quick, apologetic look, before turning his attention to the Korean girl.

Gabriel abandoned hope that he and Jack would have a chance to talk anytime soon. He could put aside his personal feelings for a week and a half and focus on this dance.

* * *

It turned out that he could not put aside his personal feelings for a week and a half.

Four days in and he was a hopeless mess. Sometimes he would get caught up in teaching Jack a movement and do something without thinking, like taking hold of Jack’s arms with his own, his chest pressed against the soldier’s back, to demonstrate proper posture during a move. Or like grabbing Jack’s thigh to correct its positioning during a spin or stance.

Gabriel was a realistic man. He had known going into this arrangement that these kinds of touches would occur; it was why he had resisted the idea in the first place. When he had changed his mind for Amélie, he had told himself it would be okay. He was a professional—Jack was hardly the first attractive man he had taught how to dance. He could control himself.

What he hadn’t anticipated was Jack’s reactions.

The little catches of breath, the sudden clumsiness, the instant blushes, the distracted glances. Yeah. Gabriel could grab the man’s thighs to get him into a proper passe stance, no problem. But add in that little hitch to Jack’s breath, the heat in his cheeks and neck… it was almost too much to bear.

Luckily, Amélie was ruthless, and also a good friend. She bit back the worst of the mockery but always managed to step in and distract attention away from the tension between Gabriel and Jack with demands for improvement, focus, and repetition.

The fifth day, Amélie and Jack had decided to dedicate entirely to their freestyle dance, with the sixth dedicated entirely to the ballet. The seventh day was a mandated resting day from the producers. The camera crews got some shots of the contestants doing things around the city with the family members and friends who had been flown in for the finale. Each remaining pair also did an intensive interview session and showed off a few particularly interesting things from their week of training for the cameras so that the editing teams could piece together some good narratives. 

Then Fareeha had them over for dinner again, and Sombra played bartender, meaning everyone but Fareeha was shitfaced by the time the food was served. The food, drinks, and company were all on point, filling Gabriel’s stomach and heart with a nice warm feeling of happiness. Regardless of what did or didn't happen with Jack, Gabriel was unusually content with this scenario. No other season of _Dance Stars_ had yielded such a winning combination of people; he would be truly sad to see Hana, Lúcio, and Fareeha leave LA.

And then there was the impending departure of one Jack Morrison. But he didn’t think about that.

(He thought about it all the time; their window was closing so fast. He thought about texting Jack to ask what was going on, but the ball had been left so clearly in the other man’s court last time. He thought about forcing a conversation anyway. He didn’t.)

* * *

On the stage, Gabriel wore all black and an owl skull mask, and held a black veil. Amélie wore white and feathers, and an owl mask (snowy feathers adorning it; not a skull). Together they were War and Peace. Jack, then, wore khakis and a dark green shirt, reminiscent of combat fatigues. The Soldier.

The dance began with a beautiful intro of the Soldier and Peace together, with War looming in the background. The Soldier danced with Peace but couldn’t ignore War, watching it over his shoulder and always stumbling, staggering closer. Until he left Peace behind.

Then the dance transitioned to an almost opposite scene; the Soldier and War danced together, but it was not the light and beautiful dance that had transpired between the Soldier and Peace. It was violent, messy; War dominated the dance, beating the Soldier down no matter how hard he tried to fight back. Peace flitted about in the background, sometimes catching a longing glance from the Soldier and reaching out her hand, but they could not connect as War raged on. At last the Soldier collapsed, shrouded in War’s black veil.

Peace took the Soldier by the arm and drew him up, tried to reprise their dance from before, but War kept stalking the Soldier, stealing the interactions he was supposed to have with Peace, making sure the black veil never fully lifted from his head and body. The Soldier kept craning his neck around War, shoving War out of the way, but to no avail.

The piece ended with War chasing the Soldier, who was chasing Peace, until they reached center stage and the Soldier suddenly stopped, turning on the spot to face War directly. War drew to a halt, completely immobile for the first time in the entire performance, inches away from the Soldier. The black veil dropped from the Soldier’s face to pool around his feet, and Peace settled next to it, waiting.

The lights faded to black. The audience held its breath.

The lights came back on and Jack, Amélie, and Gabriel greeted the standing ovation that followed with their arms linked around each other, grinning madly.

It was tradition that the celebrity choice dance was unscored, since most contestants used it as a way to feature their best style among those they had already learned. The judges gave critiques, however, so the three dancers listened happily to the positive feedback. Jack was asked to talk about what the dance meant to him, and gave some insights into how it had been choreographed from his vision by Gabriel with Amélie’s help. Once again, Gabriel and Jack’s friendship became the subject of the discussion, and they both made brief statements about how they had never expected to become such good friends, and how they had been so lucky to have met each other.

“Will you stay friends, now that the competition is coming to its close?” Tina asked.

“Of course,” Jack said immediately. “Gabriel is the kind of man you keep around.”

Amélie nodded her agreement, her arm squeezing her best friend’s waist closer to her.

Soon enough they were ushered off the stage and Gabriel gave them both a quick hug to wish them luck before parting ways. He had been given a reserved seat in the audience for the remainder of the show, next to Jack’s parents, whom the studio had flown in for the finale.

He sat down next to Mrs. Morrison, nodding nervously to her. She smiled and leaned over. “Jackie told us all about you,” she said, and he tried not to grin at the use of the diminutive; so, Mom still called him Jackie. Aww. “It’s nice to finally meet you. And what a lovely dance that was!”

“Thank you, ma’am. It’s nice to meet you, too.”

Then the lights were coming up on Hana Song and Simon Antonoff, and they watched as the spectacular duo dazzled with their freestyle dance, an homage to gaming (Hana’s claim to fame) complete with ensemble dancers and fanfare. The final dance for the night was Sombra and her partner’s celebrity choice, which was a foxtrot (to Gabriel’s disgust).

Finally, the three sets of contestants were called up to the stage and lined up to receive final remarks from the judges and await the announcement of the winners.

Voting opened. Gabriel didn’t know if it was cheating to vote, but he joined Mr. and Mrs. Morrison anyway as they pulled out their smartphones and texted their picks to the hotline.

The first award given for the night was the Judge’s Choice award, which was given to the pair that the judges considered to be the best dancers. Often it was based on who was the most improved celebrity dancer, but sometimes it went to the pair who had been most consistent in scoring well.

Gabriel wasn’t surprised when the Judge’s Choice award went to Hana Song and Simon Antonoff. The two had been consistently ranked in the top two, except for the one week when they had been third in terms of judge’s scores. They had the highest total score, earning an impressive 215 out of 240 possible points. Jack and Amélie had scored 206, and Sombra and her partner had come in at 204. The Judge’s Choice Award came with a $10,000 prize and a trophy, which Hana and Simon happily accepted.

The real award, though, was the Audience Choice award and its $100,000 check. Just like eliminations, the audience vote alone determined the true winner of _Dance Stars_. Hana and Simon were in a good position to also clinch this second and more prestigious prize, and join the limited ranks of competitors over the many seasons of the show who were able to get both awards.

Gabriel, the Morrisons, and the rest of the audience waited with bated breath for the results to come in.

“Ladies and Gentlemen,” Tina said, a big grin on her face. “It’s my pleasure to tell you that we have had a record breaking number of votes cast this season, with more than twelve million votes coming in tonight! The winner of this season of _Dance Stars,_ winning just over sixty-five percent of the audience vote is… Jack Morrison and Amélie Guillard!”

Gabriel leapt to his feet with the rest of the audience, whooping and cheering excitedly as Amélie and Jack hugged and jumped on stage. Confetti and balloons dropped from the ceiling, though Winston had agreed weeks ago to keep the flashing lights and pyrotechnics to a minimum during the finale out of respect for Jack.

Jack was given the golden trophy to hold while flowers were pressed into Amélie’s hands; Tina was asking them questions, but the audience hadn’t calmed down enough yet for the words to be understandable over the din of the cheering. Gabriel was still clapping and whistling when the camera crew got up in his face and one of the set assistants started shoving him toward the stage.

“What?” he yelled at the girl.

“Get on stage!” she hollered back over the noise, nodding urgently toward the steps.

A bit confused, Gabriel followed her instructions and hesitantly made his way to the stage, glancing around as if looking for confirmation that he was in fact supposed to be there. Then he caught sight of Jack and Amélie peering over at him, gesturing him to them, so he stood up a little straighter and made his way to them.

That was when he noticed Fareeha, dressed in a beautiful white gown, grinning at him from behind Tina.

The audience hushed, unsure what this development on stage was.

Fareeha had a microphone. “Gabriel,” she said, her grin growing as he glanced between her, Jack, and Amélie suspiciously, “over the past week, following the airing of our retrospective dance and my… _impassioned_ —” here she paused as the audience laughed “—my impassioned plea for justice to be done, the viewers of _Dance Stars_ have been writing to the producers to make their wishes known. Executive Producer Harry Winston asked me to present to you, for the first time in _Dance Stars_ history, an additional award. Dedicated and named in your honor, this award will now be a recurring seasonal recognition in _Dance Stars_ , given along with $1000 to the cast member who best reflects the outstanding dedication to loyal friendship and community cohesion that you have demonstrated season.”

She paused and turned to take the award itself from Tina, who was standing by with the crystal trophy.

“So, Gabriel, it is my honor to present you with the first ever Gabriel Reyes Goodwill Award,” she concluded, handing the trophy to him. He took it, stunned, kissing her cheeks and trying to keep the tears running down his face to a minimum as he turned to accept hugs from Amélie and Jack, then Sombra, her partner, Hana, and Simon.

* * *

When the night was finally over, interviews done and farewells wrapping up, Gabriel leaned against the lockers with his arm around Amélie’s shoulders, watching as Hana and Lúcio performed an impromptu beat-boxing duet for the amusement of the catering crew. Jack was talking to his parents across the room, and Winston was shaking hands with Sombra and insisting she come back for the next season once her flamenco competition was concluded.

“What are you gonna do with your prize money?” he asked Amélie. 

She shrugged. “Want to open a dance studio with me? Run it ourselves? Ballet classes for kids, contemporary and ballroom for adults?”

“You serious?”

“I am.”

He grinned at her. “Dream come true,” he said, pulling her a little closer in his one-arm hug. 

She rolled her eyes and swatted at his shoulder. “Don’t be sappy.”

He laughed. “Are you kidding? My best friend just asked me to start a business with her after winning a nationally televised dance competition. I’m gonna be sappy. We deserve this, Amé. _You_ deserve this.”

She let her head fall against his shoulder for just a second, a sincere and pleased smile on her lips. “Yeah, I guess,” she said. “Let’s go home.”

Gabriel ran to the bathroom as she packed up the last of her things. When he returned, he waved goodnight to the few lingering folks (Hana and Lúcio were also on their way to the parking garage; the three Morrisons had disappeared) and followed Amé toward the car.

Once they’d exited the building and were halfway to where Amé had parked, however, she caught Gabriel’s hand and stopped him, pulling him out of an introspective daze.

“What?” he asked, pulling up short and placing a hand on her shoulder for balance in the abrupt halt.

She nodded in the direction of her gaze, and he turned to look. Leaning against his blue car, eyes fixed on Gabriel, was Jack. Suddenly nervous, Gabriel tightened his hand on Amélie’s shoulder.

“Go on, Gabriel,” she said quietly. “Don’t miss this chance to talk. Text me if you need a ride later.”

He nodded, kissed her cheek, and steeled his nerves before turning to make his way to Jack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What'd you think? Justice for Gabriel? :D
> 
> omgggg next chapter is last chapter howww this fic has gone by so fast
> 
> For real so much love to all of you reading, leaving kudos, and commenting, it makes it so much fun. <3


	11. Pivot

# Pivot

“Hey,” Gabe said nervously as he approached Jack, as though he hadn’t spent the last ten days or so dancing in close proximity to this man.

“Hey,” Jack said with a smile. “Want to get out of here?” Gabe nodded and Jack stood up, unlocking the car and getting into the driver’s seat.

“Congratulations,” Gabriel said as he angled into the passenger seat. Jack grinned at him.

“Thanks,” the soldier said, turning the key in the ignition and carefully backing them out. “It’s pretty exciting! I never really expected dancing to be something I could be good enough at to win.”

“You won the popularity contest,” Gabriel reminded him with a smirk. “But you got pretty good at the dance part of it by the end, too.”

“Well. Learned from the best.”

They drove in silence for a while.

“Where are we going?” Gabriel asked, not recognizing the route as one that would take them to Jack’s place, nor his own.

“I dunno, I just want to go somewhere quiet for a while,” Jack said. “So we’re going this way.”

“And are we going to talk about—”

“Yeah. But, when we’re there.”

It was already late and they had had an exciting day, so Gabriel surprised himself by dozing off on the drive. He had thought his nerves were too frayed about the prospect of this ‘talk,’ but apparently not. How Jack was still awake enough to drive was a mystery to him, but a few hours passed with Gabriel passed out in the passenger seat and Jack contentedly zooming along on the dark highways.

“Hey,” Jack murmured, gently shaking Gabriel’s shoulder. “We’re here.”

Gabe grumbled a bit, his body having settled nicely into its sleep, but forced himself up, blinking around to see where they had ended up.

“The beach?” he said. “How far did we drive?”

Jack just shrugged and got out of the car. When Gabriel joined him, he realized it wasn’t just any beach. They were at the same beach house Fareeha had rented two weeks ago.

Was Gabriel too much of a hopeless romantic, that he took this as a good sign? He couldn’t ask Jack about it right then, though, because the blond man was already halfway to the water, not waiting for Gabriel. Was that a bad sign? Ugh. Men.

He kicked off his shoes at the sand line and jogged to catch up. Jack kept his eyes on the ocean, standing still just beyond the reach of the tide. The moonlight reflected on the calm waves, shimmering nicely.

Gabe opened his mouth, but Jack caught his eye and shook his head. Frowning, Gabriel abandoned the questions on his lips and shifted nervously from foot to foot, impatient to hear whatever it was Jack had decided. His hand started beating an anxious tempo on his leg.

Jack’s hand reached out, grabbed the tapping appendage, and held it still. “Relax, sunshine,” he said, smiling at Gabriel. “Just… relax for a minute.”

Gabe sighed heavily, wondering how he was supposed to relax with this man who drove him crazy standing there, holding his future in balance as silently and surely as he held his hand. But he tried. He breathed in, appreciating the smell of the ocean. He dug his toes into the cool sand, listened to the waves lap at the shore. Despite himself, he _did_ feel a bit calmer, his grip on Jack’s hand softening as the lines of his furrowed brow smoothed.

Jack took a deep breath, smiling. “See? That’s better, isn’t it?”

Gabriel huffed a little laugh. “You’re trying to kill me, right?”

“Yep, you got me,” Jack said. “Lured you out here so I could get rid of your body faster. You were such an easy victim, too, just fell asleep in the car, let me take you anywhere. You always so quick to trust serial killers?”

“Just you,” Gabriel said, and he had meant to keep up the playful tone, but his voice had betrayed a deeper meaning, an ocean of sentiment.

“Yeah,” Jack sighed. “Same for me, you know. Just you.”

Gabriel’s stomach fluttered. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I let the whole world in so easily, right? Like, here’s Jack Morrison, world! Prisoner of war. Do an Ellen interview, tell everyone on TV about my PTSD.” He stopped, frowning at the sand. “But that’s the thing, Gabe. That’s as far as _anyone_ gets. My therapist says it’s a coping mechanism, a way to make myself feel like I’m connecting with people when I’m actually keeping everyone distant by feeding a very calculated amount of intimacy out through public channels. Even my parents and brother barely get more than that. I don't bring anyone closer than arm's length because I let everyone take a step forward at exactly the same time I step back.”

Here he paused, looking back up at the ocean before turning a little to face Gabriel more directly. “And then there’s you, and the distance thing just fell apart. It fucking terrifies me, knowing you could get close enough to see… the mess.”

Gabriel couldn’t hold the eye contact long. It was too intense, made him feel too many things.

Jack stepped closer, tugging at Gabriel’s hand in his own to turn the other man toward him. It was so familiar, this moment—standing together, so close, so _close_ to what he wanted, but a mountain of uncertainty still looming between them.

“It still scares the hell out of me,” Jack reiterated. “But I also haven’t been excited by the prospect of my future in years, and I am now. I’m so excited to think that my future could have you in it.” 

Gabriel looked up, hopeful. “Yeah?” he asked.

Jack grinned. “Yeah. Gabe, I talked to my therapist and my family when I went home. Even if… even if you’ve changed your mind—no, don’t, I need to say this first, please. Even if you’ve changed your mind, and you don’t want… what you wanted before… I’m going to move out here.”

Gabriel blinked in surprise. “You’re what?”

“I was… stagnating in Indiana. I went from being the farm boy to the soldier, and then what, back to farm boy? I was looking for a life there that doesn’t exist anymore. It probably never did. I can’t stay there anymore. Coming here… I think I came here and did the competition in the first place because at some level I already knew it was untenable to stay where I was anymore. I’ve been stuck, Gabe. Stuck in Indiana, stuck in my head, stuck in that damn prison cell.”

He gestured out to the sea, turning to look. Gabriel followed his gaze. “Being here, I’ve done more new things in two months than I’ve done in the entire time since I returned to Indiana. Like hang out at the beach with friends. I have friends here. I’ve learned how to dance, even some ballet.” He stopped to chuckle. “I never dreamed I’d perform ballet on stage.”

“Why did you?” Gabriel asked, curious. This was something he’d meant to ask the soldier since the first night of their practice leading up to the ballet performance.

“You,” Jack said, smiling. “I did it because I wanted to see you dance, to _feel_ ballet like you do.”

Gabriel looked away, touched.

“I’m going to move out here, see if I can harness this change and turn it into something really good for myself,” Jack said firmly, resolved. “Everyone agrees it’s a good idea. I can't get unstuck if I don't make some changes, you know? And it’s important to me that we both know I’m not… I’m not moving here for you. I’m moving here for me.”

“Okay,” Gabriel said.

“Okay,” Jack echoed, letting out a deep breath. “Okay. Now that I’ve said that. I want to know, Gabriel. Do you still want a relationship with me? Like, make a real go at this? Be the Sandy to my Danny?” He gestured between them.

Gabriel grinned. “More than anything, Jackie.”

“Even if it's gonna be hard while I keep working through all this mess in my head?”

Gabriel squeezed his hands. “I want you exactly like you are, the good parts and the messy parts and everything else.”

Jack nodded, letting out a shaky breath. “Good. Then let’s not wait any longer.”

Taking a step in, Gabriel brought his hands up, almost reverent as he brushed his fingers along the soldier’s jawline. Jack leaned into the touch, smiling as Gabe’s fingers trailed down the side of his neck, then back up into his hair.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” Gabe whispered, eyes following the path of his fingers, drinking in every detail that he had, until now, only stolen glimpses of. Now the little wrinkles at the corner of Jack’s eyes, the way his hair curled around the back of his ear, the feel of his stubbly chin and the little scar that ran across the underside of it… these were things Jack gave him willingly, knowingly. He felt overwhelmed with gratitude that he was the one who got to admire Jack this way.

“Me, too,” Jack murmured, watching Gabriel’s lips closely. “I should have told you weeks ago.”

“You’ve told me at exactly the right moment,” Gabe replied. He tipped Jack’s chin to the side with a finger and leaned in, pressing their mouths together. It was a nervous, hesitant thing, this first kiss, the culmination of weeks of imagining it making the moment more in their minds than it ever could have been. But it was exactly all of that, too, both things at the same time, too little and too much, exactly enough.

They broke apart, and an identical sigh escaped both their lips. Two sets of eyes opened, met. Two little laughs filled the space between them.

Jack took Gabriel by the back of the neck, pulled him back. This time there was confidence to the kiss, desire laced into the licks and nips, a tug to the contact that had nothing to do with anything either man did with his lips. 

With effort, Gabriel pulled himself away from the contact. “Jack,” he whispered.

“Hm?” the other man said, breathless.

“There’s one more important thing we have to establish before this goes any further.”

Jack leaned back, watched Gabriel with serious eyes, waiting.

Gabe took a deep breath, bracing himself. “Like I told you the other day, I am obviously the Danny of this duo, so if you’d stop calling me Sandy—”

“Oh my god,” Jack groaned, slumping forward and laughing against Gabriel’s shoulder. “Oh my god. I was so worried.” Gabriel chuckled as he wrapped his arms around Jack, pressing a kiss to his temple. “Why am I Sandy? Because I’m blond?”

“Well, hair color doesn’t hurt, but it’s obviously because I’m an edgy coolkid and you’re an innocent country gal who’s just moved to the big city.”

“Ha,” Jack murmured, “you think you got something to teach me? I think you’re outclassed and you don’t even know it.”

“Prove it,” Gabriel challenged, hand slipping into the waistband of Jack's shorts.

Jack grinned. “Maybe we should try to get some sleep tonight, sunshine. I have to meet my parents in six hours for brunch, and it’s been a long day.”

“The longest,” Gabriel agreed with a sigh, letting Jack take his hand and pull him back in the direction of the beach house. “But a good day.”

“The best,” Jack said.

* * *

_One month later…._

“Why are we doing this?” Gabriel grumbled, stretching languorously in bed, eyes squeezed shut against the lamp Jack had clicked on fifteen minutes ago when he had gotten up to shower.

“It’s not even that early, Gabriel,” Jack replied, voice muffled as he ducked his head to towel his hair dry across the room. “You got up earlier than this for _Dance Stars_ regularly.”

“Okay, but there was this hot guy that I wanted to moon over back then,” Gabe mumbled, hiding his face under his pillow.

“What happened to him?”

“Turns out he wasn’t gay,” Gabriel said, waking up now that he was engaged with the banter.

Jack chuckled, and Gabriel felt the bed dip and shake as the soldier knelt and then crawled over to him. Jack collapsed against his back, forcing Gabriel to exhale sharply, coughing a little at the sudden weight of muscly man pressing on him.

“Jack,” he groaned. “Get off.”

“If I do, you have to get up,” Jack bargained, nestling his cheek into the back of Gabe’s neck.

“At least shave if you’re going to do that,” Gabriel groused, wriggling as best he could to escape the stubbly snuggles.

“Says the man with a goatee,” the soldier shot back, then patted the pillow loudly next to Gabe's head. “I’ll shave when you get up. Come on, I don’t want to be late.”

Jack pushed off of him and was on his feet, bustling around the room getting ready as Gabriel slowly dragged himself upright. When he stood up at last, he was confronted by a smiling Jack holding out a clean towel. “Shower,” he commanded as he shoved the towel into Gabriel’s chest, leaning forward to capture a kiss. “You smell like sex.”

“Not my fault,” Gabe answered with a smirk.

“Kind of your fault. Go, please, Gabe, we don’t have that much time.”

While Gabriel showered, Jack shaved and got dressed, khaki Dockers shorts and a tucked-in polo, tall socks and a nice belt. When Gabriel reappeared, he snorted at the sight of his boyfriend. “You look ridiculous.”

Jack raised an eyebrow and gestured at a similar outfit laid out for Gabriel on the bed. “Strict rules of attire, my love. Hurry.”

Gabriel might have resisted putting on such an outfit except that he turned into a pool of melted butter whenever Jack called him things like ‘my love,’ so he just pulled on the shorts, polo, belt, and socks. God, he had it bad.

“Now I look ridiculous, too, are you happy?” he complained, assessing himself in the mirror with a frown.

“You look ready to golf,” Jack corrected, snaking his arms up around his stomach from behind, pressing a kiss into the back of his neck. This time he was smooth-cheeked, and Gabriel smiled.

“Why are we golfing, though,” Gabe asked as he followed Jack out the door and down to where his car was parked.

“I already told you,” Jack said. “You got to spend weeks teaching me to dance. Let me teach you to golf. It’s fun, I promise.”

“Can we do that movie thing where you stand behind me and put your hands on my wrists and help me swing the golf club properly?” Gabriel asked.

Jack laughed, unlocking the car and pausing, one leg in vehicle, to look over the top of the sedan at Gabriel. “Darling, if we didn’t, I’d be sorely disappointed in us.”

On the way to the golf course, they passed the sushi place that Gabriel and Amélie frequented.

“What are you smiling about?” Jack asked, having happened to glance over just then.

Gabriel grinned, looking over his shoulder to watch the sushi place go by. “Just remembering a conversation Amélie and I had months ago over sushi,” he said.

“About what?”

“About you, right after we’d gotten our celebrity assignments for the show.”

Jack raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? What did you say?”

“I said you were cute. Amélie said you were boring.”

Jack chuckled at that. “Too apple pie for Amélie, huh?”

With a shrug, Gabriel said, “Well, she changed her mind when I pointed out you’d look less boring bent over my bed.”

The soldier’s laughter bubbled brighter, louder. “And?”

“And I was right, of course,” Gabriel said with a self-satisfied smirk. “She may have won the competition, Jackie, but I won something, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's a wrap! Thank you, thank you, thank you! For reading, and leaving kudos, and especially for leaving comments. I absolutely LOVE hearing your thoughts and reactions, so don't be shy if you're thinking about leaving something... even if you're a reader who has picked this up some time after its completion.
> 
> I had SO much fun writing this and want to thank my best friend and sister of my soul who helped me develop the story into what it is! It really benefited from her superior knowledge of reality TV and sports animes, so. Lol.
> 
> It's possible I'll write a sequel? But I dunno. Keep an eye out, I guess!
> 
> Thanks again, friends. It's been a fun ride.


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